


Persist In Silence

by ShrimpZilla



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:09:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 34,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4278030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShrimpZilla/pseuds/ShrimpZilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen is transferred to the Ostwick Circle while Trevelyan is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for a dragon age kink meme prompt

“I heard he’s been transferred from two Circles in two years,” Kenna said, leaning into Trevelyan’s shoulder so that her voice wouldn’t carry. On the far end of the bench Lydia leaned against Kenna, all three girls pressed together in what was likely more suspicious a position than if they had been speaking at normal volume. 

“I heard it’s because he’s murdered mages.” Kenna gasped and Trevelyan rolled her eyes and gave Lydia a disbelieving glance. Lydia was always trying to stir up trouble with the templars. She always had some bit of gossip about something unsavory one or all of them had done, if not in the Ostwick Circle than somewhere else. Kenna was always inclined to believe the older girl, but Kenna was always inclined to believe anyone. Trevelyan took most of the things said with a grain of salt. After all, why would they allow a murderer to continue to work in the Circles? That was against Chantry law just as much as anything else. 

“What are you doing?” Pate asked. All three girls looked over at him from where they hadn’t seen him enter. He rose an eyebrow but grinned in good natured amusement. 

“We’re speculating about the new Templar who was transferred from Kirkwall,” Trevelyan offered. She wriggled herself free of Kenna and Lydia’s weight. The other girl gave her her freedom but stayed close to each other. Pate threw himself down in a seat opposite them, blocking the perfect view they had had of the new Templar. Trevelyan blinked and craned her neck to continue spying. Pate looked over his shoulder and turned back with a self-satisfied smile.

“Ah, no need to speculate. I know all about him.” He paused for effect while Kenna, Lydia, and Trevelyan all leaned closer to him to here. “He was in the Ferelden Circle during the Blight. He got moved to Kirkwall because, I mean, the Blight. Apparently he was offered the position of Knight-Captain but turned it down. That’s how he wound up here.” Pate sat back and waited for their collective gratitude.

“How do you know that?”

“Why would he turn down a promotion?” Kenna and Lydia asked in tandem. Pate shrugged, scratching at an ill-shaven patch of hair on his chin. Trevelyan wondered if he had left it on purpose. He had recently complained to her that he thought none of the other enchanters took him seriously because all the impressive ones had beards.

“I know because I’m a healer and people are always babbling to us about everything. And I don’t know why he’d turn down a promotion. Maybe he’s lazy or something.” He looked back over his shoulder. Trevelyan rested her elbows on her knees and held her face in her hands.

“He looks tired.”

“Oppressing mages is a full time job,” Lydia sniped. “That’s enough gossip for me,” she said as she stood. “See you later.” Trevelyan watched as the older girl’s hand rested on Kenna’s shoulder for what seemed an oddly extended period of time before she actually vacated the area. 

“He does look rather sick, doesn’t he?” Pate concluded after his long stare. “Maybe I’ll see a lot of him and then I can get you all kinds of information like what color smalls he wears and whether or not he thinks Kenna and Lydia will do it before Kenna passes her Harrowing or after.” The young elven girl squealed and slapped at Pate’s knees pitifully as she could hardly reach him. He laughed heartily while she did it, sending a wink to Trevelyan when he caught her eye. 

“Don’t let him upset you, Kenna, Pate’s just upset because no one slept with him when he passed his Harrowing,” Trevelyan offered. 

“That’s slander! We weren’t acquainted yet so you have no evidence that no one slept with me. For you all you know I banged all the Templars that night.” 

“Don’t let Lydia hear you say that,” Kenna warned with a snicker. Pate leaned back in his seat and put his hands behind his head. The trio giggled and relaxed into more typical conversation. Only Trevelyan felt that her attention was still divided, occupied by the Templar who still seemed to the source of so much mystery for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hunger for your sleek laugh,  
> your hands the color of a savage harvest,  
> hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,  
> I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place about two months after the first chapter.

_Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost,_ Cullen recited as he stood in the library. It was quiet. The Ostwick Circle seemed primarily to be quiet. …But so had the Ferelden Circle. He had foolishly thought that place a home until Uldred showed him, showed them all what evils can lurk in the hearts of mages. Cullen shuddered in his armor, his skin going clammy at the memories. His stomach turned and he took a moment to close his eyes and steady his breathing. He would not shame himself as he had in Kirkwall where the sheer number of the mages and the horrors of the Templars themselves had forced him to request transfer. Magic was made to serve man, yes, but that did not excuse the things he had seen even his brief time under Knight-Commander Meredith. Or maybe that was simply his old softness desperate to make him a fool to magic again? He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell anything anymore. 

“Excuse me?” A voice broke through his thoughts and startled him. He started, hand falling to the hilt of his sword. The young woman in front of him backed up a step, eyes trained on the movement he had done on reflex. She held her hands up and open by her shoulders, showing him that they were empty and free of spells. Her eyes were wide but he did not see the deep terror he had seen in the mages in Kirkwall or the secret hatred of those in Ferelden. He relaxed as much as he could allow himself and crossed his hands over his chest. Her own posture eased. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I imagine you were praying… but, you see, I can’t reach a book I need and I was wondering…” She trailed off, tucking a rogue hair behind her ear and peering up at him hopefully. Cullen had seen her before though rarely alone as it appeared now. 

“Ah, of course,” he muttered, eyes shifting nervously as he sought out the presence of other mages, other Templars, other people he would need to be aware of if something were to go wrong. He fought the urge to shake his head. Nothing was going to go wrong. 

“Thank you!” She exhaled happily, apparently just as tense as Cullen. It was more likely, he reasoned, that it was his tension that was infecting her. She turned and walked towards one of the bookshelves and he followed. Her steps were light in her robes and slippers while his armor clanked noisily behind. He saw someone a few stacks down glance up from whatever tome they were studying and felt his face flush. “I need the one with the purple spine and the black writing.” Together they peered up at the shelf. She pointed to the book she had described and Cullen followed the path of her finger. He went to reach and then hesitated. She was not so much shorter than him. Could she really not reach? Or was this some sort of trick? Was the book meant to be too far out of his reach as well? His mind buzzed and it was only when she blinked and lowered her arm that he was able to collect himself. 

“What’s this book for?” He asked a bit more harshly than he would have liked. He watched her mouth fall open slightly in surprise. 

“It’s… I need…” Her furtiveness stoked his distrust. He could feel all the dark corners of his mind being validated. His heart heat hard in his chest. “My Harrowing is coming up. I’m just… trying to be prepared.” She looked at him with her large eyes, unafraid but uncertain. She had not grown up with him in the Circle. The other Templars she must trust implicitly because they were as familiar to her as any of the mages. He thought of the mages who had trusted him. He had failed them, those few that had not fallen to Uldred’s uprising. He had let them die. Quickly Cullen reached up and pulled the book off the shelf, passing it to her with barely a glance. “Thank—“ she started to say but he had already turned away and was walking back to his post.

He watched her return to where she had been studying, watched her curl up in her seat and stick her nose into the book. He watched her on and off for the rest of his shift. She read quickly, voraciously and it was some small comfort to look back and see what progress she had made. He knew this was his weakness. He was prone to seeing the mages as people who he could trust, befriend, protect. He had felt pride over mages in Ferelden when they passed their Harrowings or excelled in their studies. He knew he should not let such things cloud his mind ever again. But it was hard. He found himself fighting between holding onto the nightmares and fury or else making the same mistakes all over again. Was there no middle ground? Apparently, not for him. 

“Here. I have to go because of curfew. If you could put that back for me I’d be so grateful.” Before he could respond she had pressed the book into his hands and left. Cullen looked at the book, opening to a random page. 

_I hunger for your sleek laugh,_  
your hands the color of a savage harvest,  
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,  
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.  
  
He closed the book and frowned. It was a book of poetry, vaguely dirty poetry if his intuition was correct, and certainly not something she needed to be studying to pass her Harrowing. For a moment his body felt hot, angry, betrayed on even this miniscule level, but it faded in a wash of understanding. He pictured how she had stood there, grappling with what to say. She must have felt embarrassed asking him to get her down a book of this nature. She was only a young girl, after all. He sighed and shook his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the poem excerpt is from a Pablo Neruda poem.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought of things to remind him that he was not in Ferelden any longer. He thought of the food that he was having trouble adjusting to. He thought of the wet, sea air that made his hair even less manageable. He thought of the feeling of isolation within the barracks. He thought of the book of poetry she had asked him to fetch for her a few nights ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place about a week after the last chapter.

“She’s waking,” the older Templar by his side said. Cullen shifted anxiously in place. He looked down at the girl that lay prone and dreaming. It was the girl from the library. Her name was Trevelyan, apparently some young noble and that fact gave the Harrowing an unfamiliar tension. No one wanted to report to a noble family that their child had become an abomination and been slain. She sat up, eyes blinking slowly as she gazed around unseeing. Her mind still half tethered to the Fade and whatever promises the demons had made to her. Cullen felt his stomach twisting painfully. He was sweating. He imagined he saw her face contort and melt away the way he had seen so many in Ferelden. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tried to return to the reality of the situation. 

He thought of things to remind him that he was not in Ferelden any longer. He thought of the food that he was having trouble adjusting to. He thought of the wet, sea air that made his hair even less manageable. He thought of the feeling of isolation within the barracks. He thought of the book of poetry she had asked him to fetch for her a few nights ago. 

Cullen opened his eyes. She was still there and still human. She looked down at her hands, flexing the fingers as if to check that everything worked. When she looked up her eyes shifted from contented to confused, scared. She jumped up and made to run from the circle of Templars that surrounded her. 

“An abomination!” One of the others called, raising his sword. Cullen grabbed the arm of the scared mage, yanked it hard out of the path of the blade. He heard her startled, pained cry.

“She’s just disoriented! We’re told to expect this,” he insisted. He heard words of agreement from the older Templar. It did not sate the other. He raised his sword to strike again and Cullen moved to interpose himself between. He brought up his own sword a fraction too late, crossing to far down the blade to spot it entirely. His face stung as the tip grazed his mouth, hot blood pouring down over his lips. The other Templars grabbed their brother, subdued him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know where I was for a moment.” He could hear the girl crying. Belatedly he released vice grip on her arm and brought that free hand to hold against the wound. The enchanter who had been set to watch ran to her side and pulled her along with her. Cullen looked over to see the older woman’s terror. No doubt she expected some punishment for the young girl. Cullen made to frown but a wave of pain crashed over him the moment he tried to move his mouth. 

“Take the girl,” the older Templar said to the enchanter, “She’s passed.” The two mages scurried out quickly, no need to be told more than once to excuse themselves from Templar presences. Cullen felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up through his tearing eyes at the older Templar. “That was good of you.” He inclined his head towards the Templar that was still being calmed. “It’s his first Harrowing.” Cullen nodded. “Go see a healer about that lip.” The older man left his side to go speak to the Templar that had raised his sword against one of his brothers. Cullen knew that there would be punishment for him despite the casualness with which they were all accepting this panic. He drew his hand away for a moment and saw blood dripping down the once pristine armor. He almost frowned again before remembering.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pate lowered his face to her neck and she could feel him smiling between kissing and sucking on her. His stubble itched and irritated but she liked it somehow, almost wished he would never grow a proper beard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains sexual content.
> 
> takes place the same day as the last chapter.

Trevelyan sat on her new bed feeling more than mildly ashamed. Her mouth still tasted harsh from the lyrium and her body still felt tired and detached. She wrapped her arms around herself as she thought of the Templars sword, how close he had come to striking her down because she had panicked. She closed her eyes and tried to push the images away but only served to make them more vivid. Her shoulder ached from where the other Templar had grabbed her to protect her. She shivered a little and tried to ignore the sick feeling of guilt that filled her.

“Trevelyan?” A familiar voice at the door said. She opened her eyes and smiled to see Pate standing there. He came in, closing the door lightly behind him, and sat down next to her on the bed. “You did it! I knew you would,” he said excitedly as he threw his arms around her in a hug. Trevelyan sank into the embrace, grateful for the warmth of Pate’s body and the distraction from what had happened. “Congratulations!” He exclaimed, placing a kiss on her cheek that itched from the stubble he was cultivating. The feeling sent a rush of feeling through her stomach. She pressed her cheek against his jaw and nuzzled into the sensation. She felt him draw back slightly in surprise before holding her more firmly to him. “Trevelyan?” He asked breathily. She knew that he fancied her and had for a while. She had been enamored with him when she first met him, older and confident and talented as he was. 

“I passed,” she whispered into his ear. She lowered her lips to just below and brushed them lightly over the skin of his neck. He shivered and she heard him take in a sharp breath. She ran her nose along the shell of his ear and his arms moved smoothly down her back to hold her by her hips. His fingers dug into her as she whispered again, “I want to celebrate.” Pate pulled back to look at her and Trevelyan felt uncertain at his searching gaze. She hadn’t even done this before, hadn’t sought out any of the simple bodily pleasures a mage could find in the Circle. As he friend Pate knew this and she wondered if he would turn her down on that fact alone. Instead of that he merely smiled at her wide and silly as was his way and Trevelyan felt relief flood her. 

“Gladly,” he said and then covered her mouth with his. He licked along her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, tongues touching and teeth nipping. She pulled herself closer to him by wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her lower body onto his lap. Into her mouth Pate moaned. She felt it down the whole length of her, felt it sit between her hips. “Here, let me just,” Pate mumbled when they broke for air. He lifted her slightly and then laid her flat, pushing up her robes so that her thighs were exposed. He positioned himself on his knees between her legs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh in a way that made her press towards him eagerly. He grinned at her squirming and ran one of his thumbs along the quickly dampening center of her smalls. He did it again, pressing harder, dragging his thumb in and up and catching her unaware in a burst of pleasure when it reached a spot that he proceeded to circle slowly. She shuddered towards the feeling. 

“Pate,” she mumbled, gripping the arms of his robes in her hands. He shifted over her and pressed long, wet kisses to her neck. He brushed his lips over her chest. “Pate,” she said with more urgency. “Stop fucking around.” She felt him laugh and lean his forehead to rest against her stomach. 

“As you wish,” he said. She felt her smalls yanked away roughly with his teeth and fingers. Then he was hovering over her, one hand up by her head to support his weight. She arched up to kiss him again, felt the hot press of him as their lower halves lined up. Trevelyan wrapped her legs around his waist, heard him mumble something that sounded like an excited curse, and then felt the pressure as he eased himself inside. She gasped and fell back against the bed. Pate lowered his face to her neck and she could feel him smiling between kissing and sucking on her. His stubble itched and irritated but she liked it somehow, almost wished he would never grow a proper beard.

She bit down on her lip to keep from making noise, knowing that they had to be quiet and they had to be quick. His hips rocked steadily into hers, back and forth and it felt as if they were coaxing something from her. She felt like she was unwinding, or maybe she felt like she was winding up? She couldn’t tell, couldn’t properly think thoughts that would describe these feelings in her guts and toes. “Trevelyan,” Pate panted into her ear, his movements become erratic, “Trevelyan I’m going to finish.” There were a few more thrusts, a few more hot stabs up into the knot of desire that had formed within her. Then Pate pulled himself out sloppily and sat on his knees while his seed spilled out onto the bed between them. 

Trevelyan took deep breaths as she hefted herself up onto her elbows. Pate wiped his hand on her sheet and rolled off the bed so he was standing on the floor. He looked over his shoulder at the door as if expecting someone to burst in. As if infected by his caution she hastily pulled down her robes and sat up. He turned back when nothing happened and smiled a different sort of smile than she was used to seeing on him. His cheeks were flushed and he seemed tired but happy. She supposed he must always look like this after sex. She smiled back at him. “I really am proud of you,” he said as he placed a hand on her shoulder, raising a thumb to caress her cheek. “I have to get back though. I’m technically on duty at the healers’ but I wanted to come and see you when I heard your Harrowing was over.” 

Once he had left Trevelyan stood, trying to think where Kenna might be so that she could see her friend and tell her about everything that had happened.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, I read a little of that book you had be get for you the other day. It didn’t seem very academic.” 
> 
> “I thought Templars took vows that said they couldn’t even look at things like that.”
> 
> “Well, I never… I mean, those sorts of vows…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place a few weeks after the last chapter.

The healer, a man about Cullen’s age who had seemed anxious and distracted during the quick bout of healing, had said that in order to avoid a scar Cullen would need to return for at least one additional session. Cullen was thinking that he might just live with the scar. He understood the benefits to healing magic but was still uncomfortable having the mage’s hands, glowing as they were, near his face. It had been a few weeks now and the lip, mostly healed by the magic as it had been, was coming along nicely. It stung slightly when he ate or drank and he was prone to mumbling now, but aside from that Cullen couldn’t really see a reason to seek out the healer’s hands again.

As Cullen walked his rounds he saw the mage girl— Trevelyan —standing in the hall speaking with the young elven women she so often was with. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should simply walk by or acknowledge her presence, wondering if it was inappropriate that he recognized the girl and her friends, wondering why he suddenly felt so familiarly out of place and uncomfortable. He saw her begin to smile, heard the fragile tinkling of her laugh as she placed a hand in front of her mouth to stifle it. 

That decided it for him; he was going to turn around and complete his round in the opposite way. He didn’t trust the way the sound made him feel. It reminded him of Amell which reminded him of Ferelden which reminded him of the demons and bloodshed and torture. Just as he was about to turn around Trevelyan looked up from her friend and raised a hand at him, curling her fingers in a tentative wave. He froze and smiled very slightly, lifting his own hand in response. It would be rude to ignore her, he argued to himself, now that she had noticed him. She placed a hand on her friend’s wrist and then trotted over to where he was still standing still. 

“Congratulations,” he said once she was in front of him. She dipped her head slightly, eyes on the hands she had clasped in front of her. 

“Thank you,” she said lightly. She looked up at him through her lashes. “For saying congratulations but more for saving me.” Cullen shifted awkwardly, fighting back to the urge to rub the back of his neck with his hand. “Some Templars,” and now she was looking straight up at him whatever small hesitance she had exhibited gone, “would’ve just let me be struck down.” Cullen broke eye contact with her, unable to keep her steady gaze. There was something in her eyes, something that beckoned him to believe that there were words beneath her words. Things she couldn’t say in the confines of the Circle. But that was lunacy, the same simple minded foolishness that had gotten him in so much trouble. He could not look at the mages in his charge as if they were people. He couldn’t not pretend that they were not vessels of strange and dangerous power. Over Trevelyan’s shoulder he saw her friend watching them. She almost looked like she was standing guard and the fact that so many mages might fear Templars seemed ridiculous to him after what he had seen. It was the Templars that need fear the mages, the Templars who needed to forever be on guard. “I’m sorry about your lip,” she added and Cullen drew his eyes back to her. He offered a weak smile.

“It’s all right.” His hand found the back of his neck despite himself. “You know, I read a little of that book you had be get for you the other day. It didn’t seem very academic.” He hoped his joking tone was evident and by the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth to stifle what seemed like a wide grin he supposed it was. She moved her hands from in front of her to behind, shoulders pulled straight by the movement and suddenly she seemed an altogether different young woman. 

“I thought Templars took vows that said they couldn’t even look at things like that.”

“Well, I never… I mean, those sorts of vows…” Cullen stumbled. He felt his face grow hot. “Maker,” he muttered as he moved to cover his face with a hand for a moment, “why would you say something like that?” When he felt brave enough to remove his hand he found that she was still standing there, smiling at him. She had a confidence about her and he supposed that must come with being noble born. He had heard her family donated quite a bit to the Chantry and the Circle and he wondered if that allowed her any unconventional freedoms. It wasn’t many mages, after all, that would enter into conversation with a Templar let alone make remarks of this nature.

“You know,” she said as she tilted her head slightly to look up at him. “You should really go to the healers about your lip.” She traced one of her own fingers along the curve of her own lip and rubbing where on him there was a bright red gash. The gesture unsettled him, left his stomach tight and his palms sweating in their gauntlets. Maker, he thought, not this again. 

“I should get back to my patrol,” he said stiffly. Trevelyan nodded and stepped out of his way. He went to leave and then hesitated. “My name is Cullen. If… you were wondering.” 

“I was,” he heard her saw as he left her. As he passed the young elven girl she offered him a tremulous smile which he returned if only out of a respect for good manners. Inwardly he felt disrupted, torn. Kirkwall had been too much for him, the severity of the Gallows like a slap in the face. He awoke each morning bathed in sweat and sore from night terrors. The tension in the air crept into his skull and it was all he could do not to think only of Ferelden and the time spent trapped within the Circle Tower’s walls. Here in Ostwick that tension was mostly gone. A part of him screamed at the laxness, the invitation for so much wrong to occur while another whispered in him that this was fine, this was what he needed to not be afraid any longer. He did not know. He could not decide.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place six months after the last chapter.

Trevelyan ran her hands through Kenna’s hair, freeing the silky strands from the loose braid they had been knotted in so that she could remake it better. They were sitting in the library with Trevelyan sitting one of the larger, overstuffed chairs while Kenna sat on the floor in front of her idly turning the pages of a book. “She said it was because it’s too dangerous to be in a long-term relationship in the Circle,” Kenna said sadly. “She was so happy for me when I passed my Harrowing. I didn’t, I really didn’t see it coming. I don’t know what I did to upset her.” Trevelyan let her fingers tug affectionately at Kenna’s hair as she listened to the girl, hearing the tear choked quality of her voice. 

“Lydia is… weird like that,” she said as diplomatically as she could. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She’ll probably come around. I think she got scared is all.” Lydia was prone to flying off the handle, but Trevelyan also wondered if this maybe wasn’t something more. Everyone knew that serious relationships weren’t encouraged in the Circle. She didn’t doubt that Lydia was frightened of what might happen to them if Templars caught them sneaking around. She also thought Lydia might be doing this to keep herself miserable. The idea that someone could be happy within the Circle was absurd to the other woman and if she had found some small bit of happiness with Kenna Trevelyan didn’t find it too outside the realm of possibility that Lydia would sabotage that for herself. 

“Maybe…” They trailed off into silence. After a few moments Kenna began reading aloud from the book. “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,” she paused and turned her head slightly disturbing what Trevelyan was working on. “I like that line. Don’t you?”

“Mhm. I love most of the poems in that book.”

“Do you think it’s silly of us to sit around reading love poetry?” Trevelyan rested her chin on Kenna’s shoulder.  
“Why would it be silly?” She felt Kenna twist beneath her and could imagine that her face was twisted as well. She wished she knew how to make her friend feel better. She wished she could go to Lydia and tell her to be grateful that she had found someone to love, especially someone as kind and good as Kenna. 

“Because all the people we’ll ever know are all here with us already. It’s silly to think… to think about being in love and romance and stuff.” Her voice lowered over the last few words because Kenna didn’t really believe the things she was saying. Trevelyan knew that. She hugged the smaller girl from behind. 

“It isn’t silly at all.”

“Do you want to fall in love?” Trevelyan felt uncertainty drape over her. Her mind circled around images of Pate with his easy smiles and eager eyes. But it didn’t stay there. It shifted and by degrees she saw the fatigue heavy eyes of the Templar Cullen, the sick tension that lined his forehead, the honest integrity that she felt in the stiffness of his presence. 

“Um,” she faltered finding herself on uncommon ground within herself. “I don’t know. I never thought about it really.” Kenna turned around so that they were facing each other. 

“You don’t feel anything for Pate? You guys have been sleeping together for a while now…” Trevelyan shook her head before giving herself proper time to think about it. “You wouldn’t want to be with him if we were free?” Kenna persisted. Trevelyan shrugged her shoulders.

“I’d want to be his friend for certain. But, I don’t know, I’d have a lot more options outside wouldn’t I? I can’t… imagine only being with Pate for the rest of my life if I was outside the Circle.” She felt guilty for some reason admitting to these things though she suspected most of the mages who slept with their friends felt this way. 

“What about that Templar you talk to sometimes?” Kenna asked hesitantly. Trevelyan felt herself sitting up straighter. 

“Just because I talk to someone doesn’t mean I want anything from them,” she responded defensively. Kenna looked down at the book in her hands, turning it over as if she would find some answer there that they had missed in their conversation.

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never gone out of my way to speak to a Templar I just thought since you do…” Trevelyan bit her lip and glanced around the quiet room. She let herself slip off the chair so that she and Kenna were both on the floor, sitting close enough that they would be able to hear each other’s slightest whisper. 

“I think he’s handsome,” she confessed, “in a strange sort of way. Like, I know he looks like he never sleeps and his hair is kind of a travesty and he’s always so tense and jumpy…” Trevelyan paused trying to analyze the things she was saying in order to make them fit with the fluttering feeling in her stomach that she got when she saw the man. “He’s polite to me though, a little less of the cold courtesy that the other Templars will give you if you speak to them. I feel like he wants to talk to me, to get to know me, but he knows it’s against the rules.”

“You like that part of it?” Kenna asked. Trevelyan nodded and her friend giggled. 

“And sometimes I think he’s afraid of me more than I am of him and I… I think I like that too.” She dropped her forehead to Kenna’s small shoulder and felt ashamed. “Don’t tell Pate any of this,” she added urgently. “I don’t know how he’d feel about it and I don’t want to get made fun of mercilessly in any case. I know it’s stupid.” 

“I don’t think it’s as stupid as you think it is. I think it’s like these poems. Romantic…but silly but still worthwhile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more Pablo Neruda poetry excerpts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have two older brothers. Percy was closest to my age. He was thirteen when I left. He cried when the Templars came. Our older brother scolded him for crying because it isn’t something boys should do, but he didn’t stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place about three months after the last chapter.

There was a commotion outside the barracks. Most of the Templars seemed not to notice caught up as they were with the group of foreign Templars being housed temporarily with them. The Starkhaven Circle had burned down, the mages and Templars being scattered to the neighboring Circles that could spare the room. The housing was not permanent for many. There would be rotation as rank and performance were established and the Knight-Commanders made their recruitment decisions. Cullen looked at the group that was gathered, talking and joking without a care in the world apparently. He frowned and moved down the hall to the entrance to the barracks where he could hear slightly raised voices. He opened the door that led out into the Tower in time to see a Templar wind their hand back to slap a mage across the face. 

He rushed forward despite the fact that he wasn’t dressed in his armor. His instinct had him dipping into his Templar talents, feeling the rising push of magic negating energy in his chest. He imagined blood magic, abomination, another uprising within the Circle. His head spun and his knees shook but he was ready. He wouldn’t let any more of his brothers and sisters die at the hands of dangerous magic. 

What he found cowering at the feet of the Templar was not a horrible possessed mage or even a particularly dangerous looking one. It was Trevelyan. Trevelyan who offered him smiles during his rounds, small gestures of recognition that made him feel less like he was wandering pointless and detached. Trevelyan who would speak to him if they came upon each other in empty halls or rooms, who had once touched her hand to his arm when he made her laugh. Trevelyan whose face he could conjure into his mind on the long sleepless nights, who seemed more a woman than a mage, who made all his fears and doubts better and worse at the same time. He could not imagine her as any sort of threat, especially as she currently was with the side of her face bright red and going purple and tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“What’s going on here?”

“This mage was trying to get into the barracks.” Cullen looked from the blank metal face to Trevelyan who was pulling herself up onto her knees shakily. 

“I want to ask about my brother,” she insisted. “He’s a Templar at the Starkhaven Circle. I want to know that he’s all right!” Cullen didn’t know if that was true, though by the way she was getting herself more and more upset he was inclined to believe her. 

“That may be the case,” he said as gently as he could, “but you aren’t allowed within the barracks. You shouldn’t even be out of your room at this hour.” He stooped down, waving the other Templar back in an attempt at calming the crying mage. He didn’t want her to feel threatened. He offered her his hand and she looked at it and then him as if she only just recognized him. She took the offered hand and he helped her stand. She released it immediately once she was back to her feet and when he turned to engage the Templar in conversation he saw her begin to tentatively wipe the tears from her face with the edge of her sleeve. “I’ll take her back to her room,” he said.

“But you’re off duty,” the other Templar responded. Cullen shrugged his shoulders. 

“And you shouldn’t leave your post. I don’t mind. She hasn’t truly done anything wrong, especially if her brother really is a Templar.” There was a pause where Cullen felt he could feel the other templar’s gaze on him, heavy and judging. But in the end the other relented, turning away back to monitor the hall. Cullen was known for being dedicated to their work. It wasn’t out of character for him to take on his added duty. 

“I can take myself back to my room,” Trevelyan said when he turned back to her. She had righted herself as much as she could. Her hair was mussed slightly and her cheek still a terrible sight. It made Cullen want to wince to look at it. “But I’m not leaving until I speak to someone from Starkhaven.” 

“You cannot go into the barracks and you cannot stay here,” he began, watching her shoulders sag slightly at his words, “but after I take you to your room I’ll come back and ask for you.” Trevelyan reached out and grabbed his arm with her hands. They were small but her grip was firm. His breath hitched. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had touched him outside of training. It was strange that here, now it would be this mage. 

“And you’ll come back to my room straight away?” She asked eagerly, smile tilted by her swollen cheek. Cullen could feel her fingers twisting in the linen of his shirt. He tried to ignore the unintentional subtext of the question, tried to pretend he wouldn’t hear those words in his dreams at some later point with some different circumstance. 

“Yes,” he said shakily though it seemed the wrong answer by all accounts. 

“Oh, Cullen!” She looked for a moment like she would embrace him. He tensed in expectation of it, but she seemed to realize their position and remember her composure. She released his arm and took a step back. It gave him room to breathe though he hadn’t even been aware that he had been having problems. She gestured in the direction of her room and Cullen began walking with her hardly a step behind him. “His name is Percy Trevelyan,” she began after they had put the barracks hallway behind them and were back into more familiar territory for her. “He looks like me, or at least he used to. I haven’t seen him since I was ten,” she confided. Cullen felt for her, remembering his own siblings who he know doubt wouldn’t recognize today. Trevelyan tugged at her hair in what seemed a nervous gesture, setting it one way and then quickly another. “I have two older brothers. Percy was closest to my age. He was thirteen when I left.” Cullen noted that she called it leaving rather than being taken. He wondered if it was because she didn’t mind the Circle or because that just made it easier to deal with. “He cried when the Templars came. Our older brother scolded him for crying because it isn’t something boys should do, but he didn’t stop.” Trevelyan stopped her story, voice heavy with memory. Cullen wanted to reach out to her in some form of comfort but doubted his ability at it. He watched her straighten her shoulders on her own and offer him a smile that was only a little strained. “So, I guess if anyone knows a man only a little older than me whose name is Percy and who doesn’t mind crying then that’s my brother.” 

“That’s a very helpful description,” he offered with a laugh that didn’t quite survive the journey from his chest. When they reached her door Trevelyan paused. She looked at it and then back at Cullen expectantly. Though what she could be expecting he wasn’t sure. He cleared his throat. “You should really have a healer look at your eye as soon as you get a chance.” He brought his hand to rest on the side of his face, mirroring her injury as she had once mirrored his. He was certain she mustn’t remember doing that. She blinked up at him and then quickly averted her eyes. 

“Oh, yes. One of my friends is a healer… I don’t think it’s really all that bad though. I can probably just use a frost spell to reduce the swelling.” Her voice was clipped and inwardly he cursed at making her uncomfortable. 

“No, it’s not bad at all,” he attempted but knew that wasn’t right either. Trevelyan gave him a tight smile. “I should… I’ll go ask about your brother now,” he finished lamely. 

 

Back in the barracks things had settled down slightly. Men and women were getting ready to actually get some sleep. Cullen sighed and looked around at the few that were still gathered in the main room. He found an unfamiliar older gentleman and approached him. “Excuse me?” The man looked up at him vaguely confused. “You’re from the Starkhaven Circle?” The man nodded.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I was wondering… Do you know a Templar by the name of Percy Trevelyan?” He didn’t really want to have to get into the business of describing him. He was hoping his name would be enough. The man blinked at him and then nodded in a direction. Cullen turned his head to look where the man had indicated. There was a table in the corner where four Templars were playing a round of cards. 

“Percy!” The man next to him called and the one that had his back to Cullen turned. “This guy’s asking about you!” Cullen wished that he could stop the flush he could feel building up from his neck onto his face as the eyes of the other Templars turned to him. Despite that small humiliation he also felt a wild rush of relief. The young man looking at him curiously did in fact look similar enough to the mage Trevelyan that Cullen was certain this actually was her brother. He took the few steps neseccary to bridge the gap between them so he wouldn’t need to continue to shout. 

“I hate to interrupt but you sister—“ Percy shot up from his seat, his hands on Cullen’s shoulders.

“Has something happened to her?” He asked urgently. Cullen shook his head reassuringly and stepped out of the man’s grip.

“No,” he said before he really realized it could be construed as a lie, “she asked me to ask about you. I don’t think she realized you were actually here.” 

“I was going to try to look for her tomorrow, but she always was an impatient little girl.” He paused apparently thinking over his choice of words and realizing that his little sister would no longer be the little girl in his memory. “Can you—“ He started but stopped, giving Cullen a critical look. “She trusted you enough to ask you a favor?”

“I… suppose?” Cullen stuttered. He didn’t know if Trevelyan trusted him or rather if it was just a matter of convenience. He had been there and he hadn’t been being aggressive to her. “I didn’t mind helping. Your sister… she’s a very kind young woman. And, I mean, clearly it can’t do too much harm to have you know of each other’s welfare. You’re a Templar, after all.” He felt like he was rambling, unsure where he was going with what he was saying or if it had any point at all aside from filling silence. Percy gave him one last critical look that dissolved into a strikingly familiar smile. He slapped his hand hard against Cullen’s upper arm in a sign of rough camaraderie. 

“You’ll take me to her then?” He asked in a whisper. Cullen swallowed the dry patch that had formed in his throat. This wasn’t strictly something he should be doing. This could be viewed as a definite bending of the rules. He could get in trouble for this. He would have drills and unsavory rotations and who knew what other sort of punitive measures. He rubbed at the place on his arm that Trevelyan, not Percy, had touched in entreaty. 

“Yes, of course.” Cullen hoped he wouldn’t regret this.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, it’s lonely being a Templar. Cullen knows! Or, I don’t know, maybe he doesn’t.” He cast a suspicious glance between his sister and the Templar which earned him blushes from both parties. “I’m not judging!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place the same night as the previous chapter.

Trevelyan threw her arms around Percy’s shoulders the moment he stepped through her door. He was in his full armor which made the hug awkward and a little uncomfortable but it didn’t matter. This was her brother who she hadn’t seen in nearly nine years. Whatever reservation she might had housed about their reunion was cast aside as he lifted her up off the ground with his own hug and spun her.

“Oh, little Evvie Trevvie,” he laughed. 

“Please don’t call me that.” But there was no force in her voice. Partly because she didn’t care and partly because she was crying happy tears. Their embrace ended and Percy set her down on the floor gently. Behind him she could see Cullen shifting awkwardly, uncertain whether he should leave them but likely worried over whether or not they would be caught.

“What happened to your face?” Percy asked sharply, distracting her from Cullen’s discomfort. His gauntleted hand was hovering near her bruised face and she could see the same quick anger in his eyes that he had had as a young boy. She brushed a hand along her cheek to hide it from him.

“I tried to get into the barracks. It was stupid of me. Cullen saved me from anything worse.” She nodded towards him and Percy wheeled around and clasped him easily on the shoulder. She watched and felt her chest swell. Her brother had changed so little. He was still flighty in his emotions, swiftly one thing and then swiftly the next, bounding with eager energy and movement and touch. She wondered how different she must appear. Though she could remember everything Percy had ever done or said with vivid detail her own place in her memories was vague. She didn’t know if she had been spoiled or precocious or sweet. Whenever she thought back she was always silent and watching as her family lived and loved together. 

“Ah, good man! Anyone who’s got an eye out for Evvie is okay in my book.” Percy pulled his hand away and instead used his elbow to jostle the other Templar good naturedly. “Though I guess that depends what sort of eye you have out for her, eh?” He chuckled and Trevelyan found herself laughing along only because of the look on poor Cullen’s face. 

“Um, Evvie?” He attempted poorly to change the subject. He didn’t’ seem like he took very well to being teased, what little she had done of it always baring similar results as now. 

“Evvie. Evelyn.”

“I just go by Trevelyan now, Percy,” she corrected. Her brother gave her a curious look that served to take his attention off of Cullen. She saw relief pass over Cullen’s face as Percy stepped closer to her and out of touching distance of him. 

“Perhaps I should…” He started, backing away towards the door. Trevelyan stepped towards him. 

“No, stay,” she insisted. Percy laid himself comfortably on her small bed and looked at them from his reclining position.

“Yeah, we’ll need you to act as a buffer if any old sibling rivalry resurfaces. Could get nasty.” He pretended to be whispering by cupping a hand outside his mouth but continued to speak at normal volume. “She was the biggest little rat you’ve ever known.”

“I was not!” She stomped her foot dramatically and looked over in time to see Cullen fighting off a smile. It was a rare thing, certainly not something she had ever really seen in the company of others. She had grown mildly adept at coaxing it nervously from him whenever they happened upon a private moment. 

“Oh, mummy, Percy put tadpoles down my back. Oh, daddy, Percy told me a dirty joke. Blah blah blah, I’m the baby so everyone be nice to me!” Her brother’s poor impersonation of a little girl was humorous enough that all three of them wound up laughing. Trevelyan used this moment to pull Cullen further into the room, directing him to the solitary chair. He went along with her pulling easily enough though she was aware he simply could have shaken her off. She had felt the muscle of his arm earlier when she had touched him. She always forgot how strong he must have to be to wear that armor all the time and carry that sword and shield. He was so quiet. To her it seemed that someone so strong should be loud and boisterous. They should be like Percy, confident and comfortable in everything they did. Maybe that was what endeared Cullen to her. That he wasn’t anything like what she expected he should be like. 

“When I did anything like that my sister would just get back at me twice as good,” he offered once he had seated himself. Trevelyan pulled her pillow from beneath Percy’s head and laid it on the floor between the two Templars. She shook her head adamantly when Cullen tried to stand and give her his seat. 

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” she said. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“Well, I actually have two sisters. Mia and Rosalie. I have a brother also, Branson.” She wondered if he missed them. It was true that unlike her he could get the proper time off to go and visit them if he wanted. But Ferelden was a long trip from Ostwick, and by the uncomfortable way he was talking about them it seemed like maybe they weren’t on the best terms.

“Your family’s from Ferelden?” Percy asked. Cullen nodded. “I can tell by the accent. You know, they’re thinking of transferring me to Ferelden. Either there or Kirkwall.” Trevelyan frowned. When she had seen him in her doorway she had hoped beyond hope that Percy would be reassigned here to the Ostwick Circle with her. She knew that the only reason he had been sent to Starkhaven was because they didn’t want a brother and sister in the same Circle together, but had hoped…

“I’ve been a Templar in both. Where in Ferelden would they place you?” Cullen asked. 

“Jainen,” Percy answered offhandedly. 

“Ah, I was at Lake Calenhad,” Cullen replied. Trevelyan saw her brother perk up slightly and she prayed he wasn’t about to ask about what had happened there during the Blight. She had never brought it up to Cullen, had never even made it seem that she expected him to have been at any other Circle but theirs. Thankfully, Percy said nothing on the matter clearly having learned so degree of tact.

“And you were at the Gallows also? I hear that’s a bit of a depressing place.”

“Yes… Knight-Commander Meredith is impressive for certain. But Kirkwall itself is rife with apostates and blood magic. The Templars use that as an excuse to be severe with those mages in their charge. Meredith condones it to the utmost, encourages it even.” Cullen shook his head. “I couldn’t stay.” 

“Their Circle is called the Gallows?” Trevelyan asked. Cullen and Percy nodded their heads. “That’s terrible!” 

“Yeah, I’d much rather they let me stay on here,” Percy grumbled. Trevelyan leaned back so that her back was support by her bed. She tried to focus on how nice it was in this moment to be here with her brother again. She tried to make herself pay attention to everything so that she could think back on it later. There was no telling how long Percy would be in Ostwick. There was no telling if they would be able to talk like this again before he left. 

“The Ostwick Circle is the nicest Circle I’ve been in,” Cullen offered earnestly and Trevelyan smiled at him. 

“Do your sisters look like you?” Percy asked abruptly and Trevelyan wondered if he had seen the soft moment that had passed between Cullen and herself. 

“Uhm, well, yes and no, I suppose.” She watched Cullen stumble over his words, looking back at Percy to see an amused smile on his face that likely was matched by her own. “They’re prettier than I am, I imagine or at the very least hope. I don’t know… the basics are about the same.” He gestured between Percy and Trevelyan when he seemed about ready to give up on attempting descriptions. Percy sat up.

“So you’re saying that Evelyn is prettier than me?” While Cullen sputtered and turned red Percy threw his hands up in feigned outrage. “I thought I was the pretty one. My whole life is a lie!” Trevelyan found herself in a fit of giggles.

“You’re so annoying,” she breathed, holding her sides to keep herself as together as she could. “Why do you even care what his sisters look like?” 

“Well, if I’m going to be stationed in Ferelden I could conveniently find my way to them. I could tell them all about how much I admire their brother and get my in that way. Then it’s just a matter of wooing one or, well let’s not undersell myself here, both of them and what do you know you’ve got two sisters and I’ve broken about four Chantry laws.” Both Trevelyans were surprised by the guffaw that Cullen let out at Percy’s explanation. The sound made Trevelyan giggle again, smiling as she watched the uncharacteristic display. On her bed Percy pretended to be offended by their reaction. “Hey, it’s lonely being a Templar. Cullen knows! Or, I don’t know, maybe he doesn’t.” He cast a suspicious glance between his sister and the Templar which earned him blushes from both parties. “I’m not judging!” Trevelyan shoved him as roughly as she could considering their positions and size difference. 

“That would be an abuse of power. I wouldn’t… That is to say we haven’t…” Cullen attempted. “It’s against the rules,” he finished though he didn’t look happy with the way his argument had gone. Trevelyan bit her lip a little. She couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed by the accusation itself or because, maybe, he wouldn’t be as opposed to it as he was claiming. She didn’t even really know how she felt about the idea. The part of her that thought it was impossible liked it, was excited by it. But if she actually thought he would break the rules and take her to bed her stomach felt nervous. 

“All right, all right. My mistake, didn’t mean to offend everyone,” Percy said in about as unconvinced a voice as a person could have. Trevelyan pretended to be looking at her brother while stealing a glance at Cullen. He was looking at her as if he had suddenly become exhausted. She wanted to reach out and touch him, remind him… She didn’t know of what. That they were people. That she could put a hand on his arm or chest or knee and it wouldn’t be anything significant. Except that they weren’t just two regular people. They were a mage and a Templar and it would be significant. She kept her hands to herself for the rest of the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m just saying, if you’re planning on sleeping with him—“
> 
> “Percy!” 
> 
> "Oh, don’t act so scandalized. I’ve lived in a Circle almost as long as you have. I know the types of things people do to occupy their time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place a few weeks after the previous chapter.

“They’re carting me off tomorrow,” Percy said with a sigh. Trevelyan frowned though she knew she should be grateful that they had gotten his long together. “It was good seeing you, Evelyn.” He averted his gaze for a moment to the ceiling, clearly organizing some of his thoughts. Trevelyan couldn’t remember the last time she had seen such a serious expression on her brother’s face. Of course, the last time she’d seen him they’d been children. He was an adult now and though she had seen so many things that were the same in him it was only natural that there were differences as well. “I thought you might hate me for joining the templars. I wasn’t going to at first, once you were taken I told mother and father I wanted no part of it. But Lancel convinced me. He said I could do some good probably. Provide a little bit of kindness and protect the mages.” Trevelyan’s throat constricted at the idea that he thought she could hate him for anything. 

“Percy, it never even occurred to me to hate you. Father always planned on you joining the Order. I didn’t think that just because of me…” She trailed. 

“I love you Evelyn,” he said and hugged her loosely against his armor. “Do me a favor and stay out of trouble?” She laughed when he released her and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“What sort of trouble could I possible get into?”

“Well, since I’ve been here you’ve had a templar in your room. Sometimes two! That’s generally frowned upon.” Trevelyan shook her head. Cullen hadn’t always accompanied Percy for private visits but she had been pleasantly surprised each time. Each time it had seemed to her that he was less awkward and more comfortable in her presence. Conversations flowed more easily, though she couldn’t be sure that wasn’t the results of Percy’s easy attitude and talkative nature. Still, it had been nice to see more of him, to engage with him in an atmosphere that was less stilted than Circle hallways. “I’m just saying, if you’re planning on sleeping with him—“

“Percy!” Trevelyan exclaimed, cheeks hot at the accusation that her interest in Cullen was anything other than platonic. Her brother rolled his eyes.

“Oh, don’t act so scandalized. I’ve lived in a Circle almost as long as you have. I know the types of things people do to occupy their time.” She tried to give him a disbelieving look. She didn’t need her brother prying into her sex life after not seeing her for nearly a decade. “Do you know how many mages I’ve walked in on doing it and how many times I’ve been invited to join?” At that she gave him a truly disbelieving look. He shrugged it off as if it was no big deal. “Templars get just as bored as mages, Evelyn.”

“I think Cullen’s a bit more professional that you are, Percy, no need to worry.” Percy looked like he wanted to say something else on the matter but was holding back. Trevelyan wondered if Cullen had said something to him about her. She couldn’t imagine that it would be anything in the vein of thought that Percy was going down. She was curious what he was holding back, suddenly quite desperately so. If Cullen had said something about her she felt she had the right to know. It wasn’t right for Percy to keep secrets from her. Instead he sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

“All right. I guess I was imagining all the sexual tension.”

“A person can be nice to another person without it being an attempt to sleep with them,” she insisted. The look on his face told her that he thought she was protesting too much. The realization made her cheeks feel a little heated. Percy noticed and the sly smile that spread across his face told her that he felt himself victorious in their conversation. 

“Whatever you say, little sister. Just be sure to invite me to the secret wedding.” Trevelyan shoved him away from where he tried to hug her again. He was laughing and it took all of her self control not to burst out into laughter herself.

“You’re so annoying. I can’t believe I missed you!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mages cannot be trusted, his darker thoughts repeated. This was his punishment for feeling comfortable and lowering his guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter takes place a few weeks after the last one.

Cullen was surprised to find that he missed Percy Trevelyan when he was transferred. It had nothing to do with the man himself who was personable and always good for a laugh. It was more the fact that Cullen hadn’t been able to feel camaraderie with anyone living since his friends had been butchered in Kinloch Hold. That had been years ago at this point—three, no four, was it five already?—and it was refreshing to realize that his grief and isolation might not be a forever thing. He still had the capability to make friends, to engage with people on a personal level. He wasn’t totally broken and good only for work, though that was where he felt most comfortable still. He even thought he might be able to stand the idea of writing to his family. He hadn’t told them that he was in Ostwick yet. 

The Circle felt strangely empty after the brief period of overcrowding from housing some of Starkhaven’s templar unit. It felt strangely calm as well without the extra men all jostling and eager to outdo themselves in one way or another. Healthy competition, he had heard Knight-Captain Devin say. At first he thought the difference would haunt him, remind him of the silent emptiness at Kinloch Hold after Uldred’s uprising. Rather it was the opposite. For the first time in years Cullen was able to feel calm in the face silence. He felt oddly at home in Ostwick. It was a strange sensation in the face of everything he had been through. His distrust of mages had slackened, or at the very least his intense fear of them had. He wondered if it was due to the things he had observed in Kirkwall, the extremes that the Order had gone to there and the extremes the mages had gone to as well. 

“Stop!” He heard a voice whisper from behind a door he was passing. He obeyed the command if only so that he could investigate. He stepped closer to the door, realizing as he did so that it led to the healers’ offices. “No, don’t do that!” The voice didn’t seem to be in peril. There was a shrill quality to it but Cullen could hear that it was amused, not endangered. Cullen could also hear that he recognized the voice and before he had let himself think that fact over he had pushed the door open. 

The man’s back was to him but he had the girl propped up on a table giving Cullen a fine view of her face. And her legs on either side of the man. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he muttered as his face grew hot and his stomach twisted. Trevelyan looked up at him, her mouth falling open in shock. The man threw a glance over his shoulder, an angry expression falling away to something more hesitant. He didn’t move though and after a moment of all three awkwardly staring at each other Trevelyan took the initiative. She unwound herself from the man who Cullen recognized as the healer who had attended to his split lip. 

“Trevelyan, wait,” the healer whispered, reaching out to hold onto her shoulder and keep her from leaving. She shook him off and hopped down from the table, eyes trained on the ground as she hurried out and away from them. Cullen turned as if dumbstruck to watch her run down the hallway. He blinked and turned back to the healer when he sighed loudly. “Is someone hurt?” He asked a little testily and Cullen felt his own expression turn hard in response. 

“I heard her say stop.” Cullen’s voice was authoritative even though he didn’t feel like he was in the position of power here. His mind kept replaying what he had walked in on, showing him the brief flash of thigh he had seen when she untangled herself, berating his own secret attraction to Trevelyan. 

“I wasn’t—You can’t think—“ The healer stumbled. “I was tickling her that’s all.” When Cullen didn’t say anything he let himself get frustrated. “Is that against the rules now too? Mages can’t tickle each other?”

“You shouldn’t be fooling around when you’re on duty,” Cullen rationalized as the cause of his anger at this man. 

“It’s the only time we can be alone.” Cullen wished the man would just stop attempting to argue this. He didn’t want to hear anything else about. He wanted to wipe it from his mind, pretend he had never seen anything like it. He wanted to go back to appreciated her casually light touches to him without it now being caught up with this image. “I mean, what am I supposed to do?” Cullen’s silence spurred him on. “She comes looking for me and I’m supposed to turn her away?”

“Yes,” Cullen answered quickly. “I don’t want to stumble upon something like this again. Show some self control.” He held himself firm as the mage’s face dissolved into anger. Cullen felt his heart beating fast. If this mage attacked him… But it didn’t happen. He was grateful when the other man just shook his head uselessly and turned back to rearrange the things that had been moved out of the way on the table. Cullen stood watching for a few moments before retreating back out to finish his rounds. 

He saw her later in the dining room. When she caught his eye she quickly averted her gaze. Cullen lowered the hand he had half-raised in greeting. He felt himself frowning and getting twisted up inside. He knew it was ridiculous to be upset about this. There would never be anything between them no matter how he admired her smile and kindness. It was better that he had seen this now rather than allow himself to harbor secret hopes. Instead of relief at this as he told himself he should feel the only emotion in his chest was frustrated betrayal. Mages cannot be trusted, his darker thoughts repeated. This was his punishment for feeling comfortable and lowering his guard.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s no such thing as a good templar,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains mild sexual content.
> 
> takes place about two months after the last one.

Trevelyan woke with a feeling of frustration building in her guts. She sighed and closed her eyes, drifting tentatively between sleep and wakefulness. She had not spoken to Cullen since he caught her with Pate. She wasn’t even sure how long ago that was. But she also hadn’t been with Pate since then either, each time they were alone together she felt consumed by an unidentifiable anxiety. Cullen seemed content enough to let their acquaintance drop, and Pate was giving her the space she needed to come to terms with whatever they might be outside of friends. That didn’t mean Trevelyan was happy with herself. 

She sighed again as she felt her emotions tangle tightly in her chest. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t anything be simple? Why couldn’t anything work out? Why had Cullen had to walk in on her and Pate and shatter whatever illusion she had conjured about her life in the Circle? In an attempt at lessening her tension and blocking out the questions that were haunting her Trevelyan lowered her hand into her smalls. 

It was simple enough to press against herself in just the way that made her breath hitch and her shoulders shake. She let the butt of her palm against the pulsing bundle of nerves as her fingers delved deeper. Her mind spun at the sensations. She imagined Pate’s hands on her, gripping her hard to his body. She imagined his lips on her neck and chest and the way his skin felt sliding against hers. All of it together summoned a low moan from her throat. She pushed herself closer to climax, but all of a sudden it wasn’t Pate she imagined propped over her but a different face, different body, different man. It was Cullen with all of his muscles gleaming under a thin layer of sweat. She closed her eyes tighter and bit down on her lip as a wave of pleasure mounted. 

Trevelyan lay there for awhile coming down from her orgasm. She thought guiltily of Pate and even more so of Cullen. It was wrong to bring him into her idle fantasies. Shaking her head she sat up and went over to the wash basin so she could clean herself. She had a meeting with the First Enchanter later and certainly couldn’t go sticky from her own juices.

 

Once she had cleaned herself and dressed she left for her meeting with First Enchanter Lydia. She was excited. This could be a big step in her career at the Circle. If the First Enchanter thought that she had skills enough she might take her under her wing and be a mentor. That would lead to great things for Trevelyan. 

As she walked she tried to ignore the feeling of the templars’ eyes on her. Cullen had been sent out recently to hunt down a mage that had escaped. Without his presence the other templars felt more dangerous to her, though she knew that she was just being silly. She had lived for years in this Circle without issue before Cullen came. She gripped her books a little tighter to her chest and tried to push out all these thoughts. She didn’t want to be distracted when she meant with the First Enchanter. She didn’t want to have Cullen’s startled expression or his subtle smile or his kind eyes clouding her mind while she was attempting to do magic. 

“Come in!” Lydia called when Trevelyan knocked on the door to her office. The room itself was neat and orderly. Shelves of books and artifacts reached to the ceiling and there was a small ladder in the corner that must help the older woman get things from the top shelf. Lydia raised herself from her seat and embraced Trevelyan when she approached. “You look lovely. So glad we could find the time to do this.” Trevelyan smiled. First Enchanter Lydia was always so polite. It wasn’t as if Trevelyan could really have turned down the opportunity to study with her. 

“Thank you for taking the time for me,” Trevelyan insisted as she was led to a seat by Lydia’s desk. She piled her books neatly on the edge of the desk and waited while Lydia composed herself, gathering pens and vellum. 

“Nonsense. It’s my job to notice talented young mages.” 

“Is it also your job to flatter them?” Trevelyan joked and the two women shared a laugh. It did wonders to calm the tension in Trevelyan’s stomach. She so wanted to impress the First Enchanter. She opened her book to show her what magical theory she had been working on most recently, but before she could utter a sound the door to the office was thrown open. Trevelyan jumped at the noise though Lydia didn’t seem altogether bothered by it. She raised an eyebrow as two templars walked in. Not just two templars, Trevelyan noticed with a sharp inhalation, the Knight-Commander and Cullen. She saw Cullen’s eyes linger on her, likely just as surprised by her presence as she was of his. She didn’t pull her gaze from his until she heard Lydia addressing the Knight-Commander.

“Jerome, were you raised in a barn?” The older man looked back at the door he had shoved open. To his credit he seemed sheepish under Lydia’s reprimand.

“Apologies. Didn’t know you were in here with anyone. Just wanted to introduce you to the new Knight-Captain.” He gestured at Cullen who made a low bow.

“What happened to Ser Devin, if you don’t mind me asking,” Trevelyan inquired. Cullen was back to staring at her. It was all she could do to keep her attention focused between Lydia and Jerome. He looked so tired though. He had been going on duties outside the Circle for quite a bit of time recently. She thought maybe it would help him sleep better to be out under the stars, but clearly she was mistaken.

“Knight-Captain Samson in Kirkwall was removed from position, removed from the order actually. Had to transfer Devin. Kirkwall is a bloody mess,” he added the last part under his breath as more of an aside to Cullen. “I promoted Cullen here.” He smiled at the younger templar. “He’d already gotten plenty of recommendations.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cullen said graciously. Trevelyan looked over at Lydia. 

“Well, I wish you the best in your new position,” The First Enchanter said with a professional smile. “If you don’t mind, Knight-Commander, I am in the middle of something here.”

“Ah. Yes. My apologies.” He turned to leave but looked over his shoulder. “Shall I come back later to give you the report of the apostates we found?” Lydia waved a hand at him in way that Trevelyan found dismissive but Jerome seemed not to mind or notice. He grunted something to Cullen who moved to the side so the Knight-Commander could lead the way out. Trevelyan felt her stomach falling away when he turned his head to look at her one final time before leaving. She wanted to reach out and stop him, talk to him, set right all the nonsense that had gotten in the way of their friendship. But she couldn’t do that here. Not with the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter watching. 

“Now, Trevelyan,” Lydia interrupted her thoughts. She blinked up at the older woman who was looking studiously into the books open on her desk. “This is very interesting. Care to explain?” 

“All right…” She trailed though she was certain she wouldn’t be able to get her mind under enough control. Her thoughts were a jumble and attempting to concentrate only seemed to make them worse. All she could focus on was Cullen’s heavy stare, the way her skin had heated under it, the look in his eyes that made her think maybe he missed her. 

She would have to set all this right.

 

“Sir Cullen is going to be the new Knight-Captain,” Trevelyan said over dinner. Kenna looked up from where she and Lydia had been holding hands under the table. They were back together, for the time being anyway. 

“Oh, that’s good,” the elf said, “he’s nice.” Trevelyan tensed the moment the words left her mouth. Across from her she saw Pate doing the same, his face twisted into an expecting grimace. Their concern was not misplaced. Lydia slammed her hands onto the table on either side of her bowl.

“He killed Sander!” She exclaimed, earning them a few looks from nearby tables. “Or is that Sander’s fault for escaping? He deserves to either be locked up or dead?” Trevelyan didn’t feel like dealing with this. She didn’t want to see Kenna’s torn expression as Lydia went off on another tirade. Consistent complaining about their lives wasn’t the key to fixing anything. 

“If Sander had to be killed it means he was a blood mage,” Trevelyan said even though she knew this was not the way to stop the argument. This would only serve to make things worse. But she was tired of it. Tired of Lydia holding them hostage with her emotional outbursts. “The Templar Order isn’t the problem, Lydia.”

“Oh, so you’ve bought the rhetoric and it’s mages that are the problem?” Lydia stood up, looming over them. Kenna placed a hand on Trevelyan’s arm to keep her calm but it didn’t work. She found herself standing as well. She could see templars watching them suspiciously. 

“No, Lydia, people like you are the problem. People who want to point blame at either mages or templars when it’s the Chantry that’s to blame for everything bad that’s every happened to us!” There was silence in the dining hall. Lydia looked for a moment like she would reach out and strike her. When she didn’t do anything or say anything Trevelyan wondered if this was the end of their friendship. 

“There’s no such thing as a good templar,” she stated with finality. Lydia turned and walked away, leaving her dinner mostly untouched. Trevelyan lowered herself back down into her seat. She felt shaky from the confrontation. 

 

“I really thought she was going to say the only good templar is a dead one,” Pate joked weakly. Kenna shot him an uncharacteristically hard glance. “What?”

“Why do you always have to make stupid jokes? You know she takes this stuff seriously.” Pate sat with his mouth open, unable to think of something to say back to Kenna. She sighed and stood up, smoothing her robe before going off in the direction that Lydia had left. Trevelyan watched with a frown. Maybe Lydia had been right to break up with her that first time. Maybe drawing things out like this was only going to result in more heartache later down the line. 

“Hey,” Pate broke into her thoughts, bumping his knee against hers under the table. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said tiredly. She swiped a hand over her face and then turned her attention back to her congealing food. 

“Sir Cullen’s the one that caught us going at it, right?” 

“We weren’t going at it,” she contradicted. Pate rose an eyebrow at her, seemingly debating whether or not he should continue his attempt at lightening the mood. Trevelyan wished he wouldn’t.

“No, but we were about to. I mean, unless I was misreading the signals.” She went to stand again, her stomach too upset from everything to that had happened to enjoy her meal anymore. Pate reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist to keep her at the table. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m just joking around. You three are sensitive today!” She looked at him and the way concern had wound his eyebrows beneath his bangs. When she turned away and looked into the dining room she saw Cullen talking to another templar. Her shoulders tightened. He looked over, maybe being told about the commotion between her and Lydia, and she could practically feel his eyes on her wrist where Pate still had a hold. 

“Let go,” she hissed, closing her eyes and pulling her wrist free. She turned on her heel without bothering to look at Pate or Cullen again and left.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Congratulations on the promotion. I think you’ll do a good job.” 
> 
> “Ah, thank you. Though studying with the First Enchanter is no small feat either.” 
> 
> “Maybe in the future we’ll have to work together more closely."
> 
> “I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place a few days after the last chapter.

“Congratulations, Cullen,” Ada said as he was getting his armor arranged to go on duty. He smiled awkwardly at her. He was proud to of his promotion, but he hadn’t having to listen to people’s courtesy. He also felt vaguely ill at ease concerning the fact that Knight-Captain Devin had been sent to Kirkwall. He wondered if he would have burnt out as Samson had or whether he would actually have been able to make a difference. With so many blood mages in one city it seemed nearly impossible. He hoped Devin would have better luck than he had. Of course, he didn’t think that Devin was plagued by the kinds of nightmares that Cullen was. From what he knew the other man had never been tortured by demons and abominations. 

“Hope you still find the time to spar with me,” another templar, Cefin, said while tying on his own plate. 

“If Cullen’s too busy now I can spar with you,” Ada said. Cefin shook his head.

“Nah, you hit too hard.” The two templars shared a laugh which Cullen used as his moment to leave. He felt nervous. He didn’t know what sort of Knight-Captain he would be. He didn’t what sort he wanted to be. He still found himself descended upon by doubts. Could they mages be trusted or were they inherently evil? Did they hate even the kindest templars? Would they turn against the Circle if given the barest chance? He shivered. Knight-Commander Jerome was far less strict than Meredith. In many ways he reminded Cullen of Gregoir. It was comforting but terrifying. 

 

As he walked the halls, maintaining an authoritative presence, he realized that he was subconsciously looking out for Trevelyan. He hadn’t spoken to her since before… the incident with the healer. It hurt because he had so many things he wished to say to her. He wanted to ask if her brother’s trip had gone well, how her studies with the First Enchanter were, just how she was and if everything was going well for her. He could not bring himself to approach her though. The way she had run out of the room, her face colored in shame, had been shocking but he had considered pretending it never happened. After all, there wasn’t anything between them. There was barely friendship. He couldn’t truly hold it against her that she would find comfort with a friend. But she had avoided him, turned her gaze away from his, radiated coldness anytime they were each other. He didn’t understand and to keep himself from being distracted by her further he volunteered to go hunting for the escaped mage. It had worked, in a way. Though he had wound up gone from the Circle for nearly two months hunting out pockets of dangerous apostates. 

Now he was back and already she had wormed her way into his mind. Seeing her in the First Enchanter’s office had been a shock. But he had been glad to see her, glad to know that she was one of the first people to hear about his promotion. She hadn’t seemed happy for him. He felt himself frown as he thought of her eyes, wide and uncertain on him as if she could not understand from whence he came. 

And that healer… He tried not to hold anything unreasonably against him either. It wasn’t his fault that Trevelyan had decided to… well, to do whatever it was she had planned to do with him. Though he hated to admit that it had taken everything in him not to storm over and tear his hand from her wrist when he saw it in the dining hall the other day. Part of him knew that he should have, but he was terrified that if he stepped in any way between the healer and Trevelyan she would look at him in disgust. She would figure out his secret hope that had been dashed that day he found her with him. She would think him creepy or a laughing stock or both. No, Cullen could stand a lot of things but certainly not that.

 

He rounded a corner and found himself staring down at a startled Trevelyan. She gasped in surprise and looked over her shoulder to see if they were alone. The gesture gave him some small hope, unless she was checking because she had decided to fear him. Cullen frowned at his own thoughts. When she turned back to look at him she wore a nervous smile. He returned it as best he could. “Trevelyan,” he said haltingly. 

“Knight-Captain,” she responded politely with a dip of her head. “Congratulations on the promotion. I think you’ll do a good job.” He couldn’t fight the sigh of relief that escaped him. He didn’t really know what he expected her to say. Something more along the lines of never speak to me again, he thought. 

“Ah, thank you. Though studying with the First Enchanter is no small feat either.” He tried to seem easygoing. He didn’t wish to frighten her away. He wanted to explain to her that he was sorry for walking in on her in that private moment. He wanted to tell her that staying on good terms was important to him. Trevelyan giggled and his mind went blank of all the things he was planning to say.

“Maybe in the future we’ll have to work together more closely,” she joked. 

“I’d like that,” he breathed in response. He watched her smile fall as her eyes widened and she looked at him in a combination of shock and something else that he couldn’t quite decipher. It wasn’t bad look though. It made his ears feel hot and his flutter anxiously, but not a bad look at all. She lowered her eyes to the book she was holding in her hands and Cullen was able to breathe again.

“I was hoping to run into you. I wanted to give you something.” She extended the book towards him. It was simple leather and small enough to fit comfortably in a pocket. It looked like a journal to Cullen. At first he didn’t understand and so he kept his arms right at his sides. She looked up through her eyelashes at him. “It’s a congratulatory gift for your promotion… and also an apology for being so rude and silly lately.” She held it out further and after a moment of thought he took it. He wished he hadn’t been wearing his gauntlets so he could feel the casual brush of her fingertips against his. “Originally it was just an apology gift but since you’re promotion happened before I worked up the nerve to give it to you…” She trailed off under the intensity of his gaze. He had barely looked at the gift, which he realized abruptly was rude. He promptly tore his eyes from her face to examine it more fully. “I copied poems that made me think of you and put them in there,” she explained in a high, tight voice. Cullen glanced up to see her biting her lip and looking at him for some evidence of his opinion on the matter. 

“Thank you,” he said honestly and his smile seemed to abate some of her nerves. She smiled back at him and took a slight step forward. 

“I also wanted to… give you this,” she said slowly. Cullen didn’t see anything else in her hands and couldn’t imagine what this mysterious second gift could be. Trevelyan leaned into him, her hands pressed against his chest plate, and brought her face close to his. Caution burned hot down his spine. He stepped back from her, using his hands on her shoulders to help her keep her balance. 

“That’s inappropriate,” he heard himself saying though he couldn’t believe he was existing in this situation. She was looking at him with hurt in her eyes and her cheeks were red with humiliation. He released his grip on her and tried to think of something to say that might mend this. He had acted on instinct and according to the rules. She was a mage. It was kind of wrong for him to sit around fantasying about her, but totally another to let something like this happen. It was an abuse of power. How could she ever truly consent to something like this? “Trevelyan,” he said her name tenderly but it only served to make her look more embarrassed. She covered her face with a hand.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “Excuse me.” She pushed passed him and he turned quickly, hoping to call out something that might still her. They could talk this over. He should’ve told her that he wanted to kiss her but that he felt guilty. He shouldn’t have just pushed her away like that. He cursed himself and the fact that she was out of range unless he wanted to go yelling and running around the Circle after her. Cullen sighed and let his eyes drift to the gift that she had given him. If the floor opened up and swallowed him whole he couldn’t have been happier.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The demon was spitting fire at them but the templars shields were slicked in some way that it just spilled over the side. They moved as one unit, hacking and slashing without words but seemingly of one mind. Trevelyan could feel something tugging at her chest and whether it was the demon’s energy calling to her or the templar’s powers pressing her down she couldn’t tell. She didn’t like the way either felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this takes place a few days after the last chapter.

Trevelyan was roused from sleep by the sound of a high-pitched scream. She sat up quickly and ran to her door. When she heard the scream again she threw caution to the wind and opened it. She was caught off guard to see Knight-Captain Cullen standing there, arm raised as if he were preparing to knock. He glanced back from where he was staring down the hall. “Did you hear that?” His voice was a hoarse whisper. Trevelyan licked her lips and nodded. Cullen lowered his hand and placed it atop his sword. “Stay here,” he cautioned and took off towards the sound. Trevelyan bit her lip and looked back into her room. She could hear more screaming now and another terrible noise she couldn’t identify. She couldn’t just stay in her room waiting. What if she could help?

Trevelyan followed after Cullen, the noises getting louder the further down the hall she went. She was forced to slow down as more mages stood nervously congesting the hall. She shoulder her way through until she could recognize Cullen’s back. He wasn’t the only templar present. There were four all standing with their swords drawn facing a room with a closed door. Trevelyan recognized the room. “That’s Kenna’s!” She gasped. Cullen shot her a concerned look over his shoulder.

“Stay back,” he instructed. Then louder, “All of you stay back!” She wanted to ask what was going on but there were enough people muttering that question. She could sense something… wrong. The air felt thin and tense by Kenna’s door. It felt like the Fade. Suddenly the door smacked open and Kenna was tossed to the floor between the templars. Trevelyan felt herself moving without realizing. She scrambled to her knees and pulled Kenna’s limp body to her. She was cold and still but she was still breathing. The realization that she might not have been caused tears to fall freely from Trevelyan’s eyes. She placed a kiss on her friend’s head and turned to look at what had thrown her out of her own room. “To me!” Cullen ordered, stepping in front of Trevelyan and Kenna. There was sick red light pooling from Kenna’s doorway and it splashed against the templar’s shiny armor like fire. 

The demon slithered forward and Trevelyan could almost tell the places where it had once been Lydia. Her stomach felt sick as her friend’s skin melted away to reveal this horror from the Fade. It must have come to her in her sleep while she dozed next to Kenna. What had it offered? Trevelyan wondered, but knew it didn’t really matter. She tried to lift Kenna and pull her away from where the templars were exuding nullifying energy to combat the demon. Kenna’s unconscious body was too heavy for her though and the other mages all seemed too distracted by the scene to help. From somewhere Pate broke through the crowd and lowered himself next to Trevelyan and Kenna behind Cullen. Trevelyan watched as he tried to avoid looking at what was happening. She could hardly look away. Pate helped her carry Kenna into the crowd, but she turned back to watch with sick interest.

The demon was spitting fire at them but the templars shields were slicked in some way that it just spilled over the side. They moved as one unit, hacking and slashing without words but seemingly of one mind. Trevelyan could feel something tugging at her chest and whether it was the demon’s energy calling to her or the templar’s powers pressing her down she couldn’t tell. She didn’t like the way either felt. 

None of the mages were doing anything. Some were crying, but most were standing slack-jawed. She felt Pate’s magic stirring beside her, a healing spell touched to Kenna’s temple. She didn’t spare him much of a glance before she was drawn to watching the horror of the demon fighting the templars. One was knocked over by its claws and the other three charged to defend the fallen from being an easy target. She could feel Kenna reviving at her side and she put an arm around her shoulder. Apparently she was more revived than Trevelyan noticed because a moment later there was a shriek in her ear as Kenna opened her eyes and saw the demon again. It wheeled around to find the noise, maybe some part of it recognizing the sound of Kenna’s voice, and surged forward towards her. Trevelyan clapped a hand over the elf’s mouth to stifle the noise while simultaneously preparing herself to cast a spell. 

Cullen beat her to it. She saw the tip of a sword pierce the demon and tear upwards, cleaving it in half. It fell and became a pile of smoldering ash on the floor. Behind her hand Trevelyan could feel Kennna attempting to scream even louder. She stared at the ash and tried to picture Lydia. The heat coming off the pile stung her eyes and made them water. She blinked back tears and pressed a kiss to Kenna’s head in some small form of comfort. Pate put his arm around Trevelyan’s shoulder, effectively hugging both girls to him. Kenna was shaking, sobbing, a wreck. Trevelyan looked up sadly to see Cullen sheathing his sword and the other templars help up their bleedinf comrade. 

“Are you all right?” Knight-Captain Cullen asked them. Trevelyan pursed her lips and rested her chin atop Kenna’s head. She nodded, her throat to tight with tears to say anything. Cullen’s eyes were wide and there was a clammy sweat across his forehead, but his voice was level and gentle even all things considered. When he reached out his hand to Kenna she pushed away and buried her face in Pate’s robes.

“You killed her!” She sobbed, clearly meaning Cullen. “I loved her!” Trevelyan let her hand rest on Kenna’s back though she kept her eyes on Cullen. He frowned and took a step away from them. 

“Mages,” he called to those that were still gathered. “Back to your rooms. The danger has been handled.” There were some mumbles but the mages listened. Pate lifted Kenna to her feet. “Trevelyan,” Cullen said, though he dared not step near again. “Can your friend sleep in your room tonight? The templars must hold vigil here to ensure no further demonic activity.” 

“Of course,” she said and went to take hold of her friend who was still crying sloppily against Pate’s chest. 

“I’ll help you get her there,” he said low so as not to disturb Kenna. Trevelyan caught herself looking over at Cullen as if he might object. His jaw was tense but he had just fought off a possessed mage. 

“I want you to come right back and look at the wounds on my men.” Pate nodded and Cullen turned his back to attend to the templars under his command.

 

Pate placed Kenna on the bed when they got there. She had stopped sobbing as loudly and was now merely crying quietly. Trevelyan sat down next to her on the bed and let her rest her forehead on her shoulder. “You should get back to the templars,” she said when Pate made no move to leave. He looked from Kenna to Trevelyan, concern clearly etched across his face. Trevelyan reached out a hand and leaned his cheek into it. 

“I wish I could say here with you two,” he said. 

“To protect us?” Trevelyan tried to use a joking tone but it came out all wrong. Pate shook his head, rubbing his nose against her wrist.

“For you to protect me,” he insisted. Kenna gave a warbling laugh. She reached out as well and Pate stepped into the shared embrace. He lowered his face to the top of Kenna’s hair and gave her a light and reassuring kiss. “I’m sorry this happened,” he whispered to her. Kenna lifted her face to look at him and he wiped some of her tears away with his thumb. “I’m sorry you had to see it.” Trevelyan moved so she could lean against Pate the same way Kenna was leaning against her. 

“Can he come back when he’s finished healing?” Kenna asked. Trevelyan shrugged.

“If he doesn’t get caught.” The other girl settled further into their tangled group embrace.

“I’d like if we could all stay together tonight. We could all fit in the bed. I’d feel safest like that.” Trevelyan bit her lip, knowing this wasn’t a good idea. The templars were bound to be stricter with the rules since one of them had succumbed to a demon in the middle of the night. Especially since that mage hadn’t been sleeping in her room as the rules   
stated. 

“I’ll try,” Pate promised. He gave them both another kiss before disentangling himself and leaving the room. Trevelyan laid Kenna down on the bed and pulled the covers over their bodies. She let her friend curl up against her and cry onto her chest.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a city made of seaweed we danced on a rooftop, my hands  
> under her breasts. Subtracting  
> day from day, I add this woman’s ankles  
> to my days of atonement, her lower lip, the formal bones of her face.  
> We were making love all evening —  
> I told her stories, their rituals of rain: happiness  
> is money, yet, but only the smallest coins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place directly after the last chapter.

When the healer returned Cullen assumed he would heal their wounds and be on his way. There was no reason for him to hover in the hall as he was doing. Cullen turned to face him and the smaller man’s eyes tracked their way up his armor from the spot on the floor he had been staring at. “She was my friend,” the healer offered as an excuse to his lingering. Cullen felt himself soften despite himself. He let his shoulders relax slightly and exhaled a deep breath. He didn’t know what he should say so for the moment he said nothing. “Her name was Lydia. She was an apprentice with me. She’s how I met Kenna and Trevelyan,” he continued, taking Cullen’s silence for encouragement. “I never thought…”

“It’s hard to reconcile what we believe to be the truth of our friendships and what they actually are.”

“She passed her Harrowing before I passed mine,” the healer said dumbly. Cullen could tell that the shock of the night was just now hitting him in full. It was likely due to the mana he had expelled healing the templars of their injuries and fatigue. “I’ve never seen… anything like this.” 

“It’s the reason mages must be guarded. The reason templars exist,” Cullen said nearly by rote. He didn’t want to divulge the things he had seen in Ferelden during the Blight but his mind went there anyway. He brought a finger to his temple, the metal of his gauntlet cool against his skin. “Come, you need to go back to your room and get rest.” The healer took a step and then hesitated, trying not to look back in the direction he had come from but making it obvious that he wished to. “You didn’t intend to go back to your own room, did you?” He asked though he dreaded the answer. The healer shrugged uncomfortably. 

“Kenna asked me to stop by and make sure they were okay.” 

“I’ll check on them. You need to go back to your room.” Cullen thought that his voice was authoritative enough to silence any further discussion on the matter. But the healer merely squirmed in his place. He wondered if the other man could tell, somehow, about everything that was going on in Cullen’s mind regarding Trevelyan. Or if perhaps Trevelyan had gone to him for comfort when Cullen spurned her kiss. Or even that the two mages laughed about Cullen and ineptitude. It was all possible and it all made him feel small.

“I don’t mean to talk back or anything,” the healer started in a way that told Cullen this wasn’t as out of character an action for him as he would like to make Cullen think, “but don’t you think you might unnerve them showing up at the door like that? You did just kill, I mean, that was Lydia as well as a demon.” Cullen felt his brows come together tightly. 

“That is my job,” Cullen said in a tone that he hoped put an end to this. The healer opened his mouth but clearly thought better of it. He nodded his head and began walking off towards his room. After a few steps he paused.

“You called Trevelyan by name. How’d you know her name?” The mage asked over his shoulder. 

“Her brother is a templar. I knew him while he was here,” Cullen lied easily. He knew he could have just said that she had introduced herself to him. There was nothing truly wrong with that, and it was mostly the truth after all. The healer gave him a weighted look and Cullen wondered what it was that had raised his suspicions. Perhaps not that he said Trevelyan’s name but the way he said it. He was certain he spoke it in the same way one might speak a compliment. 

“I guess that makes sense,” the healer said after a moment of thought. He shuffled off around the curve of the hallway. Cullen felt himself relax slightly. He stepped into the room where the other templars were cleansing, saw they had it under control, and decided his skills would be of better use elsewhere. He would need to keep an eye on the elf girl to make sure her grief didn’t push her to blood magic and abomination. 

 

Cullen paused outside Trevelyan’s door. He could hear the girls muttering to each other, sentences punctuated by harsh sobs. He knew that he should go in, investigate to make sure that they were both clean. But the thought of entering as a figure of death and fear made him sick. He knew it was wrong. He was letting his infatuation with Trevelyan interfere with his role as Knight-Captain. Already there had been one possession on his watch. Would he risk two or three? 

He stepped away with a sigh. He would see to this in the morning when their sadness was not still so fresh. He didn’t know what to do with a crying woman. He spent the rest of the night actively patrolling the halls. 

 

By the time he got back to the barracks he was exhausted. His muscles ached and his armor seemed heavier than usual. Getting it off was a blessing. He collapsed into his bunk, putting off washing himself until he woke. As soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep, but it was not the blackness of exhaustion that he had hoped for. It was the nightmares. The demons of Uldred’s uprising. He was back in his prison while they assaulted his mind. They were offering him things to sate his most base desires, the things forbidden to him by the Order. It had been Amell and now his mind betrayed him once again for it was Trevelyan in his head, beckoning him, mocking him, tormenting him. 

He awoke with a gasp, sweat pooling all around him. He took a few steadying breaths and then sat up, rubbing his palms over his tired eyes. He laid back down and tried to stop the swimming of the room. He needed something to concentrate on. Idly he reached out to his nightstand and found the small book of poetry that Trevelyan had gifted him. He lit a candle and opened the book. Her penmanship was small and cramped but it made him smile. It seemed appropriate, somehow. He settled against his pillows and read.

_In a city made of seaweed we danced on a rooftop, my hands_  
under her breasts. Subtracting  
day from day, I add this woman’s ankles  
to my days of atonement, her lower lip, the formal bones of her face.  
We were making love all evening —  
I told her stories, their rituals of rain: happiness  
is money, yet, but only the smallest coins.  


He raised his head sleepily when he heard the sound of knocking at his door. He sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face not comprehending for a moment. Then it struck him. He had fallen asleep while reading. He cast about on the bed for the book, hoping to put it away somewhere safe. Another round of knocking prompted him to forget it for the time being. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbled. He stepped out of the bed and looked down at himself. He was still in the clothes he wore under his armor from last night but he supposed it didn’t matter. He opened the door and fixed the person on the other side with a glare.

“Sorry to wake you. I know you had night duty,” Ada said, letting her eyes settle on his chest without his armor for a moment longer than was strictly appropriate. Cullen straightened his posture and crossed his arms over his chest. “Knight-Commander wants to see you. He’s in a meeting with the First-Enchanter.” Cullen wilted slightly. 

“Yes, of course. Thank you,” he responded absently as he shut the door to quickly get ready. He could only splash water on his face and hair and throw on clean clothes. He would have to wait until the meeting was over for a proper shower, and it was only as he was washing his face that he remembered he needed to shave as well. Cursing himself for falling asleep he hastily put on his armor and made his way to the First-Enchanter’s office. He bowed when he entered and took a place standing next to Jerome. 

“You can relax,” First-Enchanter Lydia said, “this isn’t about the demon last night. Jerome and I have already gone through all that from the report you handed in.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Cullen asked, finding himself less relaxed than he had been when he entered. 

“Politics,” Jerome grumbled. “Some noble family thinks that because they donate money they get access to magic when it suits them.” Cullen looked between the Knight-Commander and the First-Enchanter and he wished he didn’t feel like such a clueless idiot.

“One of the noble families of Ostwick has a sick child and are requesting a mage be sent to heal her,” Lydia explained more patiently than her counterpart. 

“That seems reasonable,” Cullen said hesitantly as he looked to Jerome for further guidance. 

“It’s not all they’re asking for.” Belatedly Cullen realized he had entered into a disagreement between the pair. A disagreement that if Jerome’s attitude was an indication he was losing or had already lost. Cullen looked towards the First-Enchanter expectantly. 

“They have a daughter in the Circle and since we need to send a mage to heal the child they’ve asked we send their daughter as well.” She put up a hand to stop Jerome from interjecting. “It’s not totally against precedent and the Trevelyans are a good, faithful family who have given much to both the Circle and the Templar Order. Not to mention that Evelyn Trevelyan is an excellent mage who is worthy of the utmost trust.” 

“I don’t like it,” Jerome said, “but it’s a done deal. Nobles,” he spat, “ they think they can do whatever they want.”

“Who will be accompanying them?” Cullen asked. The looks they gave him made it so answer was not necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the poem is by Ilya Kaminsky


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, if I hadn’t been a mage I would’ve been a templar. That’s kind of ironic, huh?” 
> 
> “Pate, you never would have been a templar. You don’t have the body for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place directly following the last chapter.

Between Kenna’s crying and her own jumpiness Trevelyan found she got very little sleep. When her friend finally did cry herself out and fall asleep Trevelyan laid staring at the ceiling, her mind occupied by thoughts of Lydia, of the Fade, of how the templars might respond to this. Would the rules be enforced stricter? Would there be punishments? Her stomach knotted and she thought of everything she had heard of Kirkwall. Would their Circle become like the Gallows? Percy had told her that Knight-Commander Meredith made mages Tranquil at the drop of a hat. She thought of her friends having their magic forcibly taken, their foreheads scarred with the sunburst mark. Pate without a smile and a joke. Kenna no longer leaning close and whispering. It was too much to think about and so she dozed on and off, starting awake randomly and listening to the sound of Kenna’s trembling breaths. 

At breakfast Kenna looked miserable. Trevelyan couldn’t blame her. She tried to think of something to say, something that might help ease everything that had happened. Nothing came to mind and so she was grateful when Pate slipped into the seat across from them. “How’re you feeling?” He asked. Kenna stared blankly down at her food and brought her shoulders up in a weak shrug. He looked at Trevelyan and she could see the lack of sleep pooling beneath his eyes. “The templars were keeping too good a watch last night. I couldn’t make it back to your room,” he explained though the two girls had long ago figured that. “I still wasn’t really able to sleep so I wound up doing this instead…” He trailed off and dug something out from his robes. It was a curled piece of parchment that he placed in front of Kenna, rousing her slightly. He smiled warmly as she unrolled it. 

“Oh, Pate…” She gasped, spreading the paper over the table so that they could all look at it together. “This is lovely.” She was crying again but they were closer to happy tears than they had been last night. Pate had drawn her a picture of the four of them. Trevelyan was impressed. She knew that Pate was good at drawing but he rarely did anything more than doodle idly. This looked like it had taken time and effort. She reached across under the table and put a hand on his knee. “Thank you so much,” Kenna hiccupped through her tears. 

“I wish I could stay but there’s a big meeting apparently between the healers this morning.” Trevelyan gave him a curious look and he shrugged. “I have no idea. No one tells me anything, well, outside of meetings anyway.” He stood and mussed Kenna’s hair on his way out. Trevelyan frowned after him, wondering what the healers could be doing calling a meeting. It couldn’t have anything to do with what happened last night. Could it? 

“I’m never breaking a rule ever again,” Kenna said suddenly. She was still staring at Pate’s drawing, her eyes trained on Lydia’s face. Trevelyan picked out the roll on the plate in front of her. She wasn’t hungry but knew it wouldn’t do to walk around all day on an empty stomach. “The templars are right. We are dangerous. The Circle is to keep people safe from us.” 

“Kenna.” Trevelyan had to stop herself from saying that Lydia wouldn’t like to hear Kenna speaking this way. She knew that would only upset her friend more. 

“It’s my fault. We never should have gotten back to together. Before we went to sleep she said she was going to figure out a way for us to be together without the templars.” Kenna was crying hard now. Trevelyan moved to sit closer, putting an arm around her and watching as the other mages took turns looking over quickly. She let Kenna bury her face in her chest so that no one would see her crying. 

“It’s not your fault. Don’t say stuff like that,” Trevelyan soothed. She looked up when she heard armored footfalls approaching. Cullen stood by their table looking uncomfortable to disrupt them. She gripped Kenna a little tighter to her, scared despite herself at the prospect that he would have to take her away. 

“Trevelyan, I’m sorry to… interrupt but the First-Enchanter needs to speak with you about something important.” Kenna turned to look at Cullen who offered her what appeared to Trevelyan as an apologetic gaze. He looked just as tired as the rest of them. She supposed sleeping after a demon attack was no easier for a templar. 

“Kenna, will you—“ Trevelyan started. The other girl smiled as brightly as she could manage and sat properly in her seat, pretending to become absorbed in the task of eating her breakfast.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Go see what she wants.” Trevelyan hesitated but knew that she couldn’t refuse to go. She stood from her seat and gave Kenna’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting Cullen lead the way. 

“I must apologize. I can’t escort you to your meeting,” he said once they were in the hallway. “I need to prepare my things for my next mission.”

“You’re leaving the Circle again?” She asked before she could stop herself. He nodded and fidgeted nervously. “Do you know what the First-Enchanter wants to talk to me about?” She pressed. For a moment he looked torn, but finally he nodded. “Will you tell me?” She asked, taking a step closer to him. At first it looked to Trevelyan like he would refuse to answer and maybe just walk away from her. But as she stared at him she watched his resolve fold. When he opened his mouth to reply she smiled.

 

By the time Trevelyan got back to her room her head was spinning. It had been easier to keep calm while speaking with the First-Enchanter due to Cullen’s spoiling of the surprise. There were so many thoughts running through her mind. If her parents had had this kind of sway why did they wait until now to use it? Had Percy said something to them about her? Was it Lancel and Helaine that had requested her presence? It was their daughter, after all, who was sick and needed tending to. The niece that Trevelyan had never known she had. 

“Are you all packed?” Cullen asked from her doorway. Trevelyan turned to look at him before turning back to look at the measly job of packing she had done. All she had to bring were changes of robes. She sighed and ran a hand over the fabric. “We really should be going,” he continued when she didn’t respond to his first question. 

“We have to get Pate,” she said as she pulled her bag closed and slung it over her shoulder. Cullen blinked at her as if she were speaking some foreign language.

“Who’s Pate?” The pause between his question and her response was uncomfortable for her. She supposed that Cullen might not have been informed which healer would be going with them. The First-Enchanter had said that she had only just sent word to the healers about which of them would go. Trevelyan tried not to think it was because she and Pate were friends but rather because he was one of the most skilled when it came to that sort of magic. He was practically useless otherwise. She didn’t think he could even produce fire. 

“…the healer,” she answered eventually. A look of realization washed over Cullen’s tired face and he darted his eyes away from hers. “He’s not… I mean, we aren’t…” She tugged a strand of her hair forcefully behind her ear. “We’re just friends,” she said in what sounded to her like the lamest attempt at convincing anyone of anything. Cullen shifted from one foot to the other, somehow seeming more awkward than she felt. 

“It’s not really my business,” he mumbled. 

“Oh. All right,” she said into the tense air. She felt like an idiot. Why did she keep pressing this issue? How many times did she need to be politely turned away? She walked over to the door so that they could leave. 

“I, um,” Cullen hesitated as they were on their way to get Pate. Trevelyan looked up at him hopefully. “I wanted to thank you for the poetry.” She felt her face go hot. She had almost forgotten in light of her pathetic attempt at kissing him and Lydia’s horrific transformation exactly what sort of poems she had put in that book. He must think she was a deviant or a pervert or a nymphomaniac. 

“I’m so sorry about that,” she said, covering her face for a moment with her hand. “Being a mage in the Circle messes with your people skills, I think. That was an inappropriate gift. You were right.” 

“No,” Cullen said lightly and the sound of it made her knees wobble. “I… really appreciated it.” Her confidence bloomed. She felt herself standing a little straighter as she smiled at him, his own nervous smile lighting his face. Without warning it fell away and the lines and shadows became prominent once more. “And I am sorry about your friend, but there is no saving a mage once a demon has taken hold.” 

“I know,” she breathed, turning her eyes to watch the floor as they walked. “To look a demon in the eye and accept its power…” She shook her head, clearing it of all lingering doubts and whispers. “I don’t understand it.”

“I have seen it far too often.” His voice sounded faraway and Trevelyan wondered if it was Ferelden or Kirkwall that he though of now. Which of the many terrible things he had seen cast that tension across his jaw? 

“Trevelyan! I’ve never liked that name until now!” Pate exclaimed from where he had been waiting outside his own room. “I wish I was a noble!” 

“I’m not really a noble, just my family are,” she argued though she knew it was no good. Pate was too excited, too eager for this brief glimpse of the outside and freedom. She looked back at Cullen and wondered where on him he was carrying their phylacteries. 

“Come, it will take us about two days riding hard to get to the Trevelyan estate,” Cullen instructed. 

“Riding?” Pate asked with what passed for a nervous expression on his face. Trevelyan laughed lightly and made to follow Cullen down the hall towards a place she hadn’t been in years.

“Yes, Pate, riding. As in horses.” 

Trevelyan supposed it shouldn’t have surprised her that Pate didn’t know how to ride a horse. She thought his absolute terror when faced with the animal was surprising though, and a little amusing. There were only two horses and since Pate didn’t know how to ride Cullen instructed them to sit together. It hadn’t bothered her on principle but now that they were riding and Pate was still holding her in a death grip the novelty of being back on a horse was fading. She had to admit that at least it was nice out, though she might have thought any weather was nice so long as she had the freedom to turn her head up and see the sky. 

“You know how you hear about dwarves freaking out when they come to the surface for the first time?” Pate asked in what was an obvious attempt at distracting himself from the horse and the wind and the sheer drop of cliff to the left. Trevelyan laughed at the high quality of his voice and the silliness of his analogy.

“You’ve seen the sky before,” Cullen insisted. Pate shook his head.

“Not like this. I was raised in a Chantry as an orphan and my magic manifested very young.” Pate hardly knew any life outside the Circle. It was why he never seemed too bothered by the lack of freedom. He had hardly known anything else. Trevelyan used to pity him for it when she first met him, but as time went on it seemed not such a bad concession to have to make. Since he knew so little of the world outside the tower he was less likely to miss anything or feel imprisoned. Pate was content, even when that contentment grated against the nerves of those around them. “You know, if I hadn’t been a mage I would’ve been a templar,” he reasoned. “That’s kind of ironic, huh?” 

“Pate, you never would have been a templar,” Trevelyan said in as sweet a voice as she could manage. “You don’t have the body for it.” She snickered at the offended noises her friend was making and was even pleased to see Cullen attempting to fight off a smile.

“Hurtful, Trevelyan, hurtful!” Pate called but there was little actual anger in it. He was glad for the distraction and never unwilling to be the butt of a joke. “Knight-Captain, if she keeps being mean to me I’m going to have to switch to your horse.” Cullen snorted and Trevelyan was impressed by how amused he sounded. She never would have thought he would enjoy any of Pate’s jokes. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be nearly as uncomfortable as she anticipated.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s true. I have seen mages at their worst. But I imagine you have seen templars behaving less than perfectly. I know that at least one templar has struck you without need. Do you trust me less for the actions of someone else?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place directly after the last chapter.

Cullen woke to the feeling of something cool pressed against his forehead. He opened his eyes blearily to see Trevelyan standing over him. In one hand she held a candle and the other she had touched lightly to this head. His brief feeling of panic upon waking settled and he leaned himself back against the chair he had been dozing in. “You were having a nightmare, I think,” she said, pulling her hand back. “Are you okay?” The light from the candle dancing over her face made him uneasy. He closed his eyes.

“Yes,” he said though his voice was uneven. “Go back to sleep.” He didn’t hear her move and when he opened his eyes again she was still standing there.

“What about you?” He frowned, knowing he wouldn’t likely be getting more sleep. He had been dreaming of demons and sick purple light, evil whispers across his skull and claws over his skin. He would spend the rest of his night praying that his memories be taken away, praying for the souls of all his friends that had died. 

“I don’t sleep,” he muttered, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position in his seat. The room at the inn only had two beds so he had given them to the mages. They were more used to comforts such as that and after the long day they had had he was certain they needed a bed more. Pate had barely been able to make it up the stairs his legs had been so sore from sitting on the horse for so long. Trevelyan had fared better or at least she had been able to make it appear she had. He furrowed his brow as the mage still made no move to leave him and return to sleep. She settled her hip against the arm of the chair and held her arms around her chest.

“…I’m nervous to see my parents,” she admitted. Cullen looked up at her sympathetically. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel seeing his family again after all this time. It had been more than ten years since he had seen them. “The last time I spoke to them we had an argument.” 

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” he attempted to reassure her. He reached out a gently touched a hand to her elbow. He felt her take a deep breath. 

“If someone in your family was a mage…” Trevelyan started, biting her lip and playing with the ends of her hair, “would you hate them?” 

“No,” he answered quickly. “A mage does not choose to be born with magic.”

“But mages can choose to be dangerous,” she countered just as quickly. She looked down at him with heavy and uncertain eyes. He wanted to hold her to chest, let her fall asleep soothed by the sound of his heartbeat. He did not know if those were things that she would find comfort in. “You’ve seen it.” She reached for the hand that he had touched to her elbow and gripped it tightly. Her fingers were thin, narrow, and they wound their way between his with strange ease. His chest felt tight at the realization. They were holding hands. “How can you trust me?” She whispered. “How can you even look at me?” He strengthened his grip on her hand.

“It’s true. I have seen mages at their worst. But I imagine you have seen templars behaving less than perfectly. I know that at least one templar has struck you without need. Do you trust me less for the actions of someone else?” She paused to think over what he had said. In that moment of silence he was certain she would pull away, scowl at him, decide that in truth she hated him as much as any mage had hated a templar. 

“No,” she said eventually. “You’re a good person, Cullen.” She ran her thumb lightly over his knuckles and it took everything in his power to look at the open gentleness of her consideration for him. To juxtapose this moment against others he had experienced, times of strife and pain and torment, nearly brought tears to his eyes. He ducked his head, hoping there was nothing for her to see.

“Get some sleep, Trevelyan. You have a big day tomorrow.” Slowly she pulled her hand free from his, but she did not simply leave him. She touched him again and this time on his shoulder. Then, ever so lightly he thought it was possible he had imagined it she placed a chaste kiss to his cheek and padded back to her bed.

 

Everyone was still exhausted when they woke up in the morning. Cullen was more than used to it by this point so he barely registered the sensations. Trevelyan and Pate looked worse for wear. “Pate, you need to shave,” she instructed him as they were taking turns washing. She had just come out of the bathroom and was tying off her hair in a tight braid. 

“What? But everyone loves my beard!” The healer objected. Cullen was in the middle of strapping on his armor and decided to turn his back to whatever conversation the two were about to have. His own face was dotted with stubble. 

“You look crazy,” Trevelyan continued to push. “You have to at least trim it.” He heard Pate’s frustrated noise and understood it meant that he had given up. 

“Fine. Fine! They don’t call me Pushover Pate for nothing.” The door closed behind him and Cullen heard Trevelyan moving around. He looked over his shoulder at her and saw that she was staring at him, her hands clasped in front of her as if she were praying. 

“Um, Cullen?” He turned around totally when she said his name. Mostly his armor was on. He only needed to put his gauntlets on and attach his shield to its place across his back.   
“Would you mind if I combed your hair?” Her question took him by surprise. 

“Ah, my hair?” He repeated dumbly. She nodded. “ I’ve never really…” Without thinking he ran a hand through the tightly wound curls, barely getting his fingers through smoothly. His mother had used to insist on combing his hair when he was younger and as he had gotten older he had staked his rebellion on letting his hair do whatever it pleased naturally. He supposed he was getting old to just leave it be, but he never had anyone to impress within the Circle. Though he supposed maybe he should have been trying to impress Trevelyan… “Um, all right.” She smiled eagerly and gestured for him to set himself on the edge of one of the beds. He did as he was bid and she crawled behind him. He could feel her weight leaning against him though the armor made it so he could not feel her body.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” she said before she began to run her fingers slowly and gently through his hair. At first he was tense. He was beyond tense. He could have shattered apart from how tense he was, but Trevelyan’s fingers moved deftly. She picked through places that he might have simply tugged through roughly. Despite himself he closed his eyes and relaxed into the sensation of her hands in his hair.

“No… no,” he mumbled, “that feels very nice.” He heard Trevelyan giggle and, if he wasn’t imagining it, lean closer to him. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck. It felt too nice for him to accurately tell how long she had been doing it. A part of him kept saying that they needed to leave but it was drowned out by the pleasure he was feeling. 

“Maker’s balls!” Pate called out as he reentered the room, still wiping shaking lotion from his now smooth face. Cullen felt himself straighten and his ears flush. Trevelyan weaved her fingers through his hair a few more times before bouncing off the bed onto her feet. She grinned at him when she was face to face with him. Pate came over and gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Knight-Captain, you’re positively dashing.” Cullen ran his own hand through his hair, felt the smoothness that was usually his unmanageable curls. 

 

“Evelyn!” 

“Mother! Father!” Cullen felt guilty for watching as Trevelyan rushed over to her parents and hugged them. He was grateful that he couldn’t hear whatever heartfelt words were passing between them. At his side Pate seemed just as grateful and perhaps even more uncomfortable. Cullen supposed that came with being a mage outside the Circle. Another man came over to them. Cullen was able to deduce that this was Trevelyan’s oldest brother. He shared the looks of Trevelyan and Percy though his features were more rugged than two younger siblings. He pointed at Pate.

“Are you the healer?” 

“Yes,” he answered. The oldest Trevelyan brother nodded brusquely. 

“Follow me,” he said and began marching off. Trevelyan pulled away from her parents to look after him.

“Lancel?” She called uncertainly. 

“Stay with mother and father, Evelyn,” he said with the barest of glances. It was his daughter that had fallen ill. Cullen didn’t blame his shortness with formalities. “I’ll be back.” Cullen and Pate followed him up a large staircase and down an elaborate hall. Despite the fineness of the Ostwick Circle it was made paltry by the Trevelyan estate. Cullen didn’t think he had ever seen such luxury up close and judging by the way Pate’s mouth hung open no matter what he was looking at it must be the same for him. They entered a room that stank of fever. A woman knelt by a bed and looked up eagerly when she saw them enter.

“Oh, please, thank the Maker, please save my baby!” She cried out, looking at Cullen. He went to gesture that Pate should go over but he was already there. He put a hand comfortingly on the woman’s shoulder and made a point of looking her in the eyes.

“Hi, I’m Pate. I’m a friend of Evelyn’s. Can you tell me what her symptoms have been?” Trevelyan’s sister in law began listing symptoms and Cullen fell into place guarding by the door. He trusted Pate to heal the child but needed to be on watch in case he tried to escape. He didn’t actually think that Pate would try anything, but he knew what his duty was.

“Thank you for coming,” Trevelyan’s brother Lancel said as he took up a position by Cullen. Both men kept their eyes on the mage and the family. 

“Of course. Magic is made to serve man,” Cullen responded by rote. He was no good at providing comforting words to people in need. For him the Chant provided all the comfort he needed in times of distress. 

“You’re Cullen?” Lancel asked abruptly. 

“Why… yes,” Cullen stammered, breaking his watch on the mage to look at Lancel. “How did you… ?” The other man didn’t meet his eye. He shifted his footing and crossed his arms over his chest. Cullen could see the stress in his face, in a muscle beneath his eye that twitched on and off.

“Percy mentioned you in his letter. He said you helped him and Evelyn sneak around and spend time together.” Though there was little accusation in Lancel’s words Cullen felt guilty. He knew that he had broken the rules for a good reason but he still hated that he had done it at all.

“Well, I wouldn’t say sneak around… It was more that I… um… I only…” He tried to get some semblance of words out of his mouth. It wasn’t going as well as he would have liked. Lancel did not have his younger brother’s easiness of attitude or Trevelyan’s wide-eyed and open interest. He was the oldest son and likely that responsibility had hardened him against the frivolities that made Percy such a pleasure to be around. 

“You’ve got your sights set on my sister is what he said. He didn’t seem too bothered by it but Percy wouldn’t understand propriety if it bit him on the ass.” Lancel looked over at him then without moving his head. “So do you?” He asked gruffly. “Have you sights set on my sister?” 

“Fraternization between mages and templars is against the rules,” Cullen managed to grind out in what sounded to him like a professional tone of voice. Lancel snorted but it wasn’t a sound of good fun. 

“For good reason. You’re in a position of power, Knight-Captain. Magic may be made to serve man but that’s not the same as mages themselves. Percy’s told me the types of things that go on in Circles, the stuff templars get up to that the Chantry turns a blind eye about.” Cullen felt some of his discomfort solidify into offense. He kept in mind that this man’s daughter was on what might turn out to be her deathbed. He was stressed beyond measure and only trying to protect a sister he never saw. Cullen knew the types of things templars could do to mages unchecked, but what he knew more was that he would never do those sorts of things.

“I would never do anything like that, nor would I let anything happen to your sister that was in my power to stop.” Cullen saw the older man’s shoulders relax slightly. Across the room Pate’s hands were alight with mana that cast shadows on the walls.

“Good,” he said with a sigh and his expression did genuinely seem pleased to hear Cullen’s assertion. “I’ve never been as close with Evelyn as Percy is. I’m ten years older and hardly half as fun. But I love my sister and it hurt me as much as him to watch her dragged off by men wearing the so-called sword of mercy.” Cullen wanted desperately to say something then though he couldn’t untangle his thoughts well enough. He wanted to question how Lancel could feel this way when his own brother was a templar. He wanted to assert that it was not most templars that did the things he feared for Trevelyan. He wanted to make him understand that the Circle really was for the best, for the safety and protection of the mages that lived within it. Instead he stayed silent and eventually it was Trevelyan poking her head into the room that broke that silence.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” She asked loud enough that Pate saw her. He looked over with an expression of relief and inclined his head towards the woman who still kneeled fervently by her young daughter’s bedside.

“Yeah, can you…?” He didn’t finish the sentence but he didn’t need to. Trevelyan skipped in and bent to whisper something to her sister in law. The woman made noise that didn’t quite sound like sobbing anymore and soon she was standing and walking out of the room, sending consistently worried glances over her shoulder. Pate visibly untensed without the added pressure of the mother by his side. Cullen watched the magic pooling across the room and hoped that they had gotten here in time.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Trevelyan,” he repeated. She heard the slight return to his senses this time, the guilt and confusion that infected her name. “What are we doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place the same night as the last chapter.

Once Trevelyan got Helaine out of the room she paused, uncertain where in the castle she should take her. She didn’t know the estate well enough anymore to walk comfortably through the halls. The walk from the main hall to her niece’s room had been an exercise in uncertainty and a strange sense of paranoia. It felt unnatural to be walking without eyes on her every movement, for starlight to be drifting in through the clear glass of the windows, for there to be a sensation of emptiness in some of the rooms. It was made even worse by the fact that she knew these were not out of the ordinary things. She had just lived in the Circle for too long. “Helaine, let me take you to your rooms,” she said hoping that her sister-in-law would get the hint and lead the way. The older woman nodded her head, one hand still pressed tightly to her mouth in a vain attempt at keeping back her tears, and tugged Trevelyan along with her.

Shuffling silently through the halls and corridors Trevelyan was overwhelmed with a sense of nostalgia, déjà vu. She could remember skipping this same route with Helaine pulling her along, giggling and laughing and delighted as Lancel and Percy counted loudly from somewhere behind them. Helaine had been so young then though Trevelyan couldn’t be sure. In her mind Helaine was all the ages Trevelyan had ever known her all overlapped and blurred together. A girl and a young woman and now finally an adult. She had always seemed a part of the family and so to see her now as Lancel’s wife under the eyes of the Maker wasn’t half as surprising as the fact that she was a mother, her brother was a father, and Trevelyan herself was an aunt.

Helaine stopped and led them into a sitting room. Without thinking Trevelyan flicked her fingers and tight the hearth and candles. The other woman paused for a moment and looked at her, eyes wide and wet and wrinkled from days of hysterics. Trevelyan twisted her fingers together awkwardly, biting down on her lip as she realized the error she had made. People outside the Circle feared magic, hated it. She wondered if Helaine would scream or send her away to curl at the foot of the sickbed with Pate while Ser Cullen looked on. “That’s handy,” she said at last. Trevelyan tried to smile but it felt too wide and out of sorts on her face. 

“Sorry… I wasn’t thinking…” She muttered. 

“No,” Helaine stopped her. She reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re a mage, Evelyn. You needn’t try to hide it.” She smiled gently, a kind and mothering sort of smile that threatened to bring Trevelyan to tears. Then she sat herself on one of the sofas and Trevelyan joined her. “You’re so beautiful,” Helaine said after a moment of quietly contemplating Trevelyan. 

“You’re just saying that because I’m the pretty version of Lancel,” she laughed a little, slowly growing more comfortable. She tucked her hair over her shoulder as she spoke. Helaine reached forward and adjusted it into what Trevelyan assumed was a more flattering position.

“No, Percy is just a pretty version of Lancel,” she corrected. “You’re a lovely young woman who I wish I had had the pleasure of watching grow up.” Trevelyan took Helaine’s hand and lowered her forehead to touch it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Evelyn,” Helaine repeated, pulling her hand away and using it to lift Trevelyan’s gaze. “No one here hates you for being a mage. We’ve all missed you so much. No more apologies.” Trevelyan realized she was crying then, tears spilling hot and fat down her cheeks. She sniffled and moved to hide it but Helaine was hugging her tightly, running a hand along her hair and back and making soothing noises. Trevelyan grabbed to her as if she were the only thing that might stop her from drowning. She had cried while hugging her mother and father just like she had cried when she saw Percy in the Circle. She supposed she would cry when she had a moment alone with Lancel as well. 

“You don’t even hate me for leaving you alone with Percy and Lancel and Mother and Father?” She attempted to joke, sputtering a laugh. Helaine squeezed her tighter and laughed lightly.

“Oh, you have no idea. Evelyn, I thought Lancel would get himself disowned the way he carried on with your parents after you were taken away. And Percy, sweet Maker, the two hardly spoke for months before he finally left for Templar training.” Helaine pulled back so they could look at each other while they spoke. She wiped Trevelyan’s tears away with her thumb even though her cheeks were just as damp. “I just had to sit here and look pretty and think, oh they’ve taken my only friend away!”

“I’m not your only friend,” Trevelyan insisted. Helaine smiled and placed a kiss on each of her cheeks.

“No, you are my sister, Evelyn.”

 

It was late by the time Lancel came into the sitting room to gather Helaine. She and Trevelyan had fallen asleep curled together and talking. Her oldest brother was always far less affectionate and emotional than Percy and so he gave her a kiss on the top of her head, holding her lightly in an embrace before simply sending her on her way to her own bed. Trevelyan smiled at him over her shoulder before leaving and the weight of the silence between them was at once poignant and freeing. She was glad of all the things Helaine had told her about Lancel, things that she likely would never have known about her tight-lipped brother. He hated the Templars, hated the Circle, hated the way the Chantry preached compassion while encouraging prejudice. 

Trevelyan walked quietly back the way she had come earlier, still uncertain in this place her family had lived for generations. She passed by the room that Gwyn, her sick niece, was sleeping in and hesitated. She wondered if Pate or Cullen would still be awake, if there was anything she could do or get for them. They had ridden without break really to get here for the healing. She didn’t know if they had been brought food. As silently as she could manage she opened the door just enough to stick her head through. 

Most of the candles had burned low and so it was difficult to see. She could manage the shadowed shape of her niece piled in blankets on the bed and what was apparently an exhausted Pate passed out on the floor right nearby with only a pillow. She frowned and slinked into the room. She intended to make him move to the cot that was set up against the wall for him. She knew that while he had likely burned himself out and felt it didn’t matter where he slept that he would regret it in the morning when his shoulders were aching. She had only taken a few steps into the room when swift movement from the darkened corner to her left caught her eye and made her jump. 

“Trevelyan?” A slightly sleepy sounding Cullen asked as he pulled himself from his own cot. He swiped a hand over his face and stepped groggily into the failing light. “Is everything all right?” He sent a nervous glance over in the direction of the bed and Pate’s sleeping form. She wondered if he had been having more nightmares about whatever horrible blood magic he had seen in Kirkwall and before. She bit her lip and watched as the momentary anxiety faded from his shoulders, watched the silhouette he cut in the flickering light, watched the softness overcome his face as he turned back to look at her. 

“Oh. Yes,” she answered quickly when she realized she hadn’t said anything and had simply been staring. “I’m fine.”

“You should be in bed,” he said, voice lowered as if speaking too loudly might make her unable to sleep later. She nodded and slid a step closer to him. 

“I’m…” She hesitated. She didn’t really know what she was doing. Her chest was tight with unexplored feelings and desires. Here was Cullen standing before her without his Templar armor, without the Circle walls closing in on them. If there was ever a moment to throw caution to the wind, ever a moment where they might have the chance to be nothing more than a woman and man this was it. “…glad you were sent with us. I didn’t know what to expect from my family. I haven’t opened any of their letters in years so I didn’t… I just didn’t know.” She wished she could stop herself from talking. She took another step closer instead. He seemed suddenly awake and aware of their increasing closeness. She watched his throat bob with a thick swallow. It made her lose her train of thought. “You’re… I mean, I’m…”

Cullen’s mouth was on hers in a moment of uncomprehending warmth. His hands hovered over her face, fingers only just brushing against her cheeks. She opened her mouth to gasp in surprise and was pleased that he took it as an invitation to trace his tongue along hers. Trevelyan brought her hands up from her sides, running them along the hard lines of his stomach and chest. She could have moaned just at the feel of him there under her hands. She had never experienced anything like it. As he went to pull away she brought her teeth lightly against his bottom lip, tugging on it gently as their mouths separated. Her chest was heaving, each breath bringing her breasts in contact with him. He stared down at her with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“I’m—“ He started abruptly and Trevelyan could feel him about to pull away. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. She crushed his impending apology with her lips, dragging her tongue across them until he opened his mouth to return her passion. His hands moved from their hesitant hovering, running over her shoulders and tracing the shape of her beneath her robe. She pressed herself closer, rolling her hips against his and feeling him shiver at the touch. He held her hard and safe in his arms. She bent up into him, pressing her hips into his again and again because she relished the subtle push against her sex and the shudders it evoked. Soon he was making small noises into her mouth, their breathing heavy and ragged. She could feel something stirring against her through his thin, simple pants. It caused a wave of heat to cascade over her. “Trevelyan,” he breathed shakily into her hair as she nibbled on his ear. “We can’t. This. Not here,” he rambled. His hands on her hips grounded her, pushed her back the slightest bit so that they could make eye contact. She blinked as if only just realizing where they were, the fact that they weren’t alone. Trevelyan went to step away but Cullen seemed unwilling to let her totally leave the cradle of his arms. 

“My room—“ She started eagerly. Cullen shook his head dispassionately. 

“I can’t. I have a duty.” Trevelyan tried to fight the urge to sigh. She pushed up onto her tiptoes so that they were cheek to cheek, her fingers leaving his neck to play with his curls. 

“I need to be watched too,” she whispered into his skin and stubble. She felt him melt a little into it, holding her a little more fully against him again. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he rumbled and the sound was like fingers running lightly down her spine. “Trevelyan,” he repeated. She heard the slight return to his senses this time, the guilt and confusion that infected her name. “What are we doing?” 

“Does it matter?”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn’t believe last night was real. It struck him that he had no way to know it was real. Couldn’t it have just been a dream? Some fevered desire dream brought from the recesses of his mind like all the other terrible and shameful dreams that plagued him. Would Trevelyan’s affection be a new circuit his tortured mind would parade before him? He sighed again, confused and disoriented, body hot and edgy. He knew he was being paranoid but couldn’t shake the fear that wrapped itself tightly around his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes places the next morning.
> 
> steamy bits towards the end.

Cullen woke to find himself just as hard as he had been before falling asleep. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, desperate for something to distract him. It had taken some convincing to get Trevelyan to go back to her own room last night without him. He was surprised he had even managed to convince himself. The way her mouth had tasted, the way her pulse had jumped beneath his lips, the way her breath ghosted over his ear. Cullen shuddered at the memories, his body straining. He could not relieve himself with both Pate and the young Trevelyan child asleep just across the room. He tried to focus his mind on that. Pate, he thought, who he had once caught with his hands pressing up Trevelyan’s thighs. Somehow this memory which was usually a source of irritation and self-loathing worked in the opposite way this morning. It highlighted Trevelyan and Pate was easily replaced with himself and then—

Cullen groaned a little and tried a different approach. He thought of the ill young girl, of the tears on her mother’s face, and the anxiety in her father’s shoulders. He coupled that with the Chant of Light and made it all the way through the Canticle of Andraste before he felt his body return to his control. He sat up and shook his head. He couldn’t believe last night was real. It struck him that he had no way to know it was real. Couldn’t it have just been a dream? Some fevered desire dream brought from the recesses of his mind like all the other terrible and shameful dreams that plagued him. Would Trevelyan’s affection be a new circuit his tortured mind would parade before him? He sighed again, confused and disoriented, body hot and edgy. He knew he was being paranoid but couldn’t shake the fear that wrapped itself tightly around his chest.

A knock at the door served to distract him and he stood quickly to answer it. A man stood, gaze lowered slightly in deference. Cullen could tell by his dress that he must have been one of the Trevelyan’s servants. He was pleased to see that the man was human and so not an elf from some desperate alienage living a life just barely a step above slavery. “Breakfast will be served within the hour, messere,” the man intoned. Cullen mumbled a thanks and retreated back into the room. He rubbed the back of his neck and considered requested he take his breakfast here. That would mean robbing Pate of the company of the Trevelyan family during breakfast. But was that really so bad? Shouldn’t they be giving Trevelyan—he couldn’t seem to think of her as Evelyn—the privacy she deserved? …Except she didn’t truly deserve the privacy. Or at the very least as Knight-Captain he should not think so. She should be in the room with them at all times so that he could watch her.

“You’re a very loud breather,” Pate grumbled from his place on the floor. Cullen frowned and watched as the other man pushed himself up into a sitting position. He twisted his back and made animated enough facial expressions that Cullen could tell without asking how he had enjoyed his rest.

“We should get washed up for breakfast,” Cullen said more gruffly than he had intended. He added with a softer tone, “I’m sure you could use it after last night.” Pate looked over his shoulder at the little girl in the bed for a moment before quietly nodding.

“I think we’ll be able to leave tomorrow,” Pate said idly as he stood and gathered his small bag to change his robe. “I’d be sore with Trevelyan for not keeping me company last night except I guess she’s excited to see her family.” Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly, his mind filled with Trevelyan’s body as if pressed against his in their frenzied kissing. He wondered how red his face must be and if Pate would even notice such a thing. “I’ll only be a minute,” he concluded and stepped into the adjacent bathroom.

When they were done taking turns getting into clean clothes they shared the bathroom while washing their teeth and faces. Cullen sloshed soapy water over his cheeks and lathered it. He reached out to the razor that he had placed in preparation to tame his stubble.

“Leave it,” Pate mumbled through the water he was gargling. Cullen looked at him with narrowed eyes. The mage spit and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Cullen wrinkled his nose at that. “The stubble. Leave it. She likes that.”

“What?” Cullen asked indignantly. His mind immediately connected the she of Pate’s sentence to Trevelyan, but he knew that couldn’t be the case. Pate didn’t know what had happened last night or anything of Cullen’s secret infatuation. Furthermore, they were enemies on that front, weren’t they? Shouldn’t Pate be doing anything in his power to usurp whatever place Cullen had in Trevelyan’s eyes? The other man rolled his eyes and tugged a brush through his hair.

“Trevelyan,” he clarified while looking into the mirror for any stray hairs. “She likes the way it feels on her skin.” Cullen was grateful for the lather that aided in hiding his blushing face. He knew the places he most wanted to put his face, could imagine the silken smoothness of the skin there getting rubbed raw from his prickly cheeks. He didn’t want to imagine those things. Certainly not while standing in his room with Pate who, Cullen reminded himself bitterly, was offering him advice that he had obtained through his own experience. “Look,” he said when Cullen offered nothing to the conversation but stupefied silence, “I guess it’s probably a social faux pas to bring it up but—“

“I would certainly say that it is,” Cullen found his voice and it was outraged. “It is not your place to say… these things about… about… these things.” Silently he cursed himself and made to splash water on his face to remove the soap. He caught Pate giving him an amused look in the mirror before the other man turned back to pay a few more moments of attention to his hair.

 

Moments before they were ready to leave Lady Trevelyan came to the room with a tray of simple foods. She dismissed them from their watch over the child and sent them to join the others in the dining hall while sat with her granddaughter. Cullen was pleasantly surprised on their walk to breakfast that they didn’t get lost and Pate didn’t insist on continuing their conversation from the bathroom. Too late he considered that he should have shaved, that Pate had been playing a mind game with him. Trevelyan herself had instructed the other mage to shave just yesterday. It was true that Pate’s beard at the time had been a fuller thing than the dusting of shadow that Cullen had let accumulate, but still. Trevelyan might prefer clean shaven men and Cullen had ruined whatever small chance last night had bought him. He cursed himself, cursed his insecurity riddled mind, would have cursed Trevelyan too for doing this to him if the very thought hadn’t made him feel sick.

“Ah, the Knight-Captain and the healer,” Lord Trevelyan exclaimed happily when the pair entered. Cullen was embarrassed to note that everyone else was present except for Trevelyan. “Here, come, sit by me. You’re the men of the hour.” Pate beamed in the attention and special treatment while Cullen did everything he could not to shirk away. He saw the younger Lord and Lady Trevelyan, Lancel and Helaine, watching from their seats at the end of the table opposite the father.

“Evelyn’s late to breakfast,” Lancel pointed out.

“Oh, she’s probably overtired from last night,” his wife explained pleasantly. A servant came around and served them all a fragrant tea.

“You kept her up too late last night.” Lancel’s gravely voiced accusation felt like a cold fist in Cullen’s guts. He looked up, horrified at having been caught and mind reeling for some sort of excuse, only to find that the husband and wife were speaking to each other with little regard for the others at the table.

“Evelyn’s always late for everything,” Pate offered. “The first time I met her she was late for a class and rushing through the halls. I didn’t see her, didn’t except anyone to be running around like that, and I opened a door right into her face. Busted her nose right open.” He laughed though Cullen found very little amusing about the tale. He imagined the slight nose of Trevelyan broken and askew, blood dripping as bruises formed beneath her eyes. “I healed her right away,” he added quickly.

“That does sound like Evelyn,” Lord Trevelyan said, peering eagerly into a basket of pastries another servant was walking around with. “She takes after her brother too much.” He looked up after selecting a muffin that looked better suited to a dessert plate than a breakfast one. “Not this one, of course, but Percy.”

“I should hope not…” Lancel groused. Cullen thought this might be an opportune moment to stop appearing like a statue. He straightened in his seat, selected a pastry blindly when it came his time, and tried his hand at smiling in a natural and easy manner. He saw Pate give him a strange look and wondered if it was really such a change from his regular expression.

“I’ve met your son Percy. When the Starkhaven Circle had their fire he was set up in Ostwick with us for a while before getting transferred to Ferelden. He’s a good man. You can tell he was raised by people who respect and care for the Chantry.” He knew that this was cheating. Percy had told him in their time as friends how much his father respected and admired the Templar Order, how it had been his relief to have a second son for exactly the purpose of promising him, and how if Evelyn had been born without magic she likely would have been sent to the Chantry to become a holy sister. It worked, however, and Cullen was rewarded with a proud smile from Lord Trevelyan. It worked to ease the terrible knot in his torso.

“You’ve met Percy and managed to not be totally convinced our family is a joke?” Lancel snorted. “He must’ve really changed these last few years.”

“No, he’s exactly the same. Ser Cullen is just being polite,” Trevelyan said as she approached the table. Her hair was sleep tussled, wavy and shining in the early morning light. It took everything in him not to let his mouth hang open at the sight of her. She seemed more beautiful to him than she had ever before. She smiled when she saw his eyes on her and the smile spoke more to him than any of the conversations going on around him.

Breakfast passed filled with idle chatter and pleasant, light food. Cullen and Trevelyan shared several secret weighted glances. He was both relieved and tormented that she hadn’t chosen the seat next to him. She had sat between Pate and Helaine and had given her attention over to the both fairly. Cullen had been locked mostly in conversation with Lord Trevelyan who admired that he had obtained rank at so young an age and was eager to talk training and technique with the occasional addition of Lancel who seemed to Cullen far less hostile towards him than he had been during their first conversation.

“I’ve got to get back to Gwyn,” Pate said while standing. “Would you mind getting me some books from the library? Just stuff to read between sessions. I’d rather not leave the room if I can avoid it.” He directed his request at Trevelyan who nodded, clearly eager to help in whatever small way she could

“Yes, we should all get started on our day. It’s too tempting to simply sit around talking,” Lord Trevelyan said and with that servants began taking dishes and moving furniture. “Lancel, we have that matter of the drunken smith to attend to.” Cullen stood when Pate and Trevelyan did.

“Um, I can help you carry the books… If you’d like,” he offered. He tried to ignore the way he could just make out Trevelyan’s brother’s suspicious gaze in his peripheral vision. He could have fallen to his knees and thanked the Maker right there when the man decided to say nothing and merely excused himself to whatever business it was helping run the land.

“Thank you, Knight-Captain,” Trevelyan responded with a nod and the way she said his title, breathy and with the hint of some other private meaning behind it, made it the most pleased he had yet been to receive his promotion.

 

“I thought of you last night while I prepared for bed.” Cullen nearly choked at her words. She sent him a glance over her shoulder from where she was leading the way to the library and if he hadn’t been choking already he was doing it now. He wondered for a moment at how different she was, how much more confident and at ease. Was it being outside the Circle? Or was it that they had kissed? She knew that he wanted her. She had no reason to play subtle games. Cullen wasn’t sure he was equipped for anything but subtle games, and even then it was really only the subtly that appealed to him. How could he respond to that look in her eye? The way she wet her bottom lip before running her teeth against it? The thought of her in her room with her hand between her legs and his name on her tongue?

“I,” he cleared his throat and started over, “I did everything I could not to think of you.” He hoped it sounded smooth rather than insulting. 

“Did you succeed?” She asked. Cullen rubbed the muscles of his neck with his hand. He smiled at her bashfully.

“No, not even a little bit.” The smile she gave him then was dazzling. Evidence that honesty truly was the best policy. She turned back to watch where she was walking. Cullen thought he saw more sway to her hips that was usual. He watched despite the warmth he felt on his face and the nervous sweat that was prickling its way down his back. 

The library itself was huge considering it belonged to a single family. Trevelyan ran her hand along the spines of the nearest books and he knew there must be something wrong with him. He found even that simple action, somehow, achingly seductive to his oversensitive need for her. She kept giving him glances, eager and suggestive, but Cullen felt none of the confidence he had felt last night when he kissed her. Of course it had been less a moment of confidence than of pure, blind action. His mind had still been half asleep and apparently it had been the half that housed his insecurity and better judgement. “Um,” he tried to begin but his voice cracked and he felt a fool. “What sort of books does he like?” Once the question was out of his mouth he felt even more like a fool. Surprisingly Trevelyan didn’t look as if she was suddenly having second thoughts about him.

“He really likes this author Varric Tethras. I don’t know if he’s got anything new out but there’s got to be a copy of _Swords and Shields_ or _Hard in Hightown_.” She looked over some of the shelves and then seemed to realize something. She turned back to him with a bright smile that made him want to melt. “He was from Kirkwall. Did you know him?” Cullen laughed a little.

“Not personally. It is a large city.” From what he had heard Tethras was a criminal. He and his brother ran racquets out of Lowtown. Nothing that had to do with mages so Cullen had never crossed his path. “Would you… I mean, I’d like to… Can I kiss you again, Trevelyan?” That he managed to say it was surprise enough to him. He tied to latch onto that one success. 

“Yes, please,” she answered and took it upon herself to close the distance between them. She pressed herself against his chest plate, reaching her hands up into his hair and smiling at him. Carefully he put his arms around her waist. He couldn’t feel her like he had last night. His armor got between them. It was frustrating but he didn’t let it bother him too much. After all, she was still in his arms gazing at him like he was somehow worthwhile. He wasn’t a greedy man. This was enough for him. “Cullen,” she whispered his name as she closed her eyes and touched her lips to his. 

The kiss started slowly but quickly caught the same fire they had kindled last night. He could feel her nails on his scalp as she pressed herself tighter and tighter against him, desperate for the contact that she couldn’t get. Cullen slipped his hands from her hips, daring to dip lower for a brief moment. He felt the swell of her buttocks and rested his hands on her thighs, hefted her up so that he held her. She gasped into his mouth at the movement and seemed genuinely amazed by this low feat of strength. It soothed a pettiness in him he didn’t realize he had. 

“Touch me, Knight-Captain,” she breathed into his ear, her lips wrapped around the lobe and suckling. Cullen felt hot desire turning his joints to liquid. He looked around and found a table, placing her on the edge so that he could remove his gauntlets. She didn’t stop kissing him while he did it. Her rubbed her cheek against his jaw, followed it with her tongue and lips and teeth. When finally he had removed the metal gloves his hands were shaking slightly. He touched them back to her hips, ready to hold her again and this time feel the soft flesh of her thighs. Instead she put her hands over his and pushed them down her legs until they rested on her knees. He looked between them, confused. Not breaking eye contact she pulled on her robe so that the hem came up. Cullen swallowed loudly and lifted his hands just long enough for her push the fabric up to her thighs. 

“Are you sure…?” She nodded, her eyes still boring into his. He touched her legs, the skin like fire searing off all questions and doubts from his mind and leaving him blissfully empty of everything but sensation. Slowly he ran his hands up, felt her muscles tense expectantly at even this small contact. Soon his fingers had disappeared beneath the robe. He could feel the edges of her smalls and the heat radiating from her core. His heart was beating painfully loud but all he could concentrate on was the feel of her skin, the look in her eyes, the stuttering rise and fall of her eager chest.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was torn straight from the pages of one of those trashy novels. In fact, she thought she’d read this exact one. The highborn girl corrupting the stalwart knight in the library. She couldn’t remember how it ended but did it really matter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place directly after the last chapter.
> 
> contains sexual content.

Trevelyan wanted to giggle. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to do anything to ease the pressure coiling in her hips as Cullen slowly pressed his fingers into her thighs. This was torn straight from the pages of one of those trashy novels. In fact, she thought she’d read this exact one. The highborn girl corrupting the stalwart knight in the library. She couldn’t remember how it ended but did it really matter? Here, now when everything was so close to happening? 

She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around his, encouraging him. When they parted he leaned his forehead against hers and she felt dizzy from the closeness, the heat of his breath. She reached for his hands with hers. She could tell he was nervous. Somehow this was bigger for him than for her. She wondered if he’d laid with a woman before or if it was simply the fact that she was a mage, the very thing he was taught to hate and distrust. She took a steadying breath and nudged his hands further up, shivered when his fingers brushed against the dampness of her smalls. He took a sharp inhale. His eyes darted up to see her expression before quickly falling back to her lap. He stared as if he could see through the crumbled mess of her robes straight to her core. 

“Cullen,” she whispered. Trevelyan had never heard her voice sound so pleading, so desperate, so needy before. It struck her with humiliation. Deep inside a voice seemed to be muttering that she was a terrible mage, a shameful wonton young girl who begged her prison guard to take her because she liked the way he looked half-petrified and half-overwhelmed by her. Before she could give that voice its due Cullen was nibbling at her bottom lip. Her eyes drifted shut and she removed her hands from his so she could wrap them around his neck. She kissed him as deep as she could. Maker, how she wanted him. 

“Trevelyan,” he returned her breathy whine with one of his own. One of his hands gripped her hip, thumb pressing into the bone hard and insistent, while the other lingered over her smalls. He ran his fingers over the warmest, wettest part of her, curling to press and tease while the fabric provided some reminder of decency between them. Despite it she arched her back and took in a shuddering breath. Cullen took the invitation to bury his face in her chest, tongue laving over nipples that were hard enough he could find them through her clothes. She ground against his fingers, pressed her chest further against his face. Trevelyan heard him groan, the sound absorbed by her robes yet still it made her tremble. “Tell me what to do,” he growled against her neck as his mouth moved its attentions to her skin. She felt his stubble rough against her throat, his teeth ghosting over her pulse point. The tight, hot wound up feeling grew more insistent. She wanted to lift herself off the table into his arms, rut against the hardness she had felt stirring in his pants last night. 

“Just, just keep touching me like that.” She exhaled shakily and swallowed loudly. “With your hand and keep, keep kissing my neck.” At the sound of her lust bedraggled voice the fingers on her hip held tighter and with a strange thrill she wondered if there would be fingerprint bruises. Cullen, the good soldier that he was, followed her orders well. His fingers caressed her more insistently, up and down and over that place that made her toes curl and her whole body reach for his. He was kissing, sucking, ruining the skin across her shoulder and neck with his teeth and mouth and beard. She thought of the marks she might be left with, thought of someone walking in on them now and felt herself unraveling. Her hips thrust against his hand with little control.

“I would do anything you asked of me,” he moaned into her ear. “Maker’s breath, I am yours.” 

Her pleasure crested as his words washed over her. She curled over so that her forehead rested against the cool metal of his armored chest. Her fingers pulling at his curls and his ears. She pressed herself once more shakily against his fingers before her body shuddered to its completion. She let out a contented breath and ran her nose lazily along his jaw line. She felt his lips twist up into a boyish smile as he tried to angle his head so he could look at her. She brushed a kiss against the place on his lip that had been split during her Harrowing, wondering at how he had never gotten it properly healed. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” she said dumbly. Cullen laughed a little nervously, shifting against her as he propped her up still. She forced herself to lean back on her shaking arms so that he wouldn’t be trapped by her. Trevelyan frowned a little at how tense he looked, sweat beading on his forehead while the bags under his eyes seemed more prominent than usual. “Are you all right? I’m sorry. I was being selfish, wasn’t I? In the Circle—“ He shook his head to cut her off before she could finish.

“No, no it’s not that. I—We really should—They’ll be wondering what’s taking so long.” Trevelyan bit down on her bottom lip. He was right, of course. She let him help her from her perch on the table and began smoothing her robes. As she worked on getting herself in order Cullen began grabbing books seemingly at random from the shelf. 

 

When they got to her niece’s room Trevelyan was surprised to see the little girl was awake. She was nestled in Helaine’s arms while her own mother sat on the edge of the bed, a hand on the young girl’s back. Pate was sitting on the cot he had ignored the night previously looking tired and drained but otherwise no worse for wear. He certainly had a grin of contended victory on his face and by the way his eyebrows rose when he saw her she thought her own expression must have been similar. She looked over at Cullen to see if he noticed Pate’s obvious understanding of their situation but he looked distracted. He hadn’t seemed himself since the finished and she felt guilt overtaking her sense of satisfaction. He dropped the books on the dresser by Pate and mumbled something along the lines of an excuse me before stepping into the washroom. Trevelyan sat herself next to her friend with a worried look over shoulder at the closed door.

“I haven’t read any of these books before,” Pate said. Trevelyan made a noise in her throat that had little meaning. “ _Agricultural Artistry_? _Two Swords In The Hand_? _So You Want To Be A Chanter_? Trevelyan, this is garbage.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry,” she said glancing back at him and peering down at the books he had spread across his lap. 

“Did you pick them with your eyes closed?” He leaned closer to her so that his mouth was flush with her ear. “If I open them I won’t find any little surprises from any kind of mischief will I?” She shoved him lightly. 

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Pate.” He turned his attention back to the books, clearly trying to figure out which would be the least boring. 

“I’m sure there was begging,” he mumbled. Trevelyan tried to fight the urge to blush. It was almost as hard a fight as the one against spilling her guts to him then and there about what had happened. She knew she would tell Pate. He was her friend and the only person she had to gush to until they got back to the Circle. She couldn’t bring herself to do it in front of her family with Cullen behaving so strangely just a door away. As her thoughts went to him the door opened and he stepped out. He seemed better. She supposed he must have needed a moment to compose himself, maybe dip his face in cool water. “Huh, I smell lyrium,” Pate said mostly to himself, his nose buried in _So You Want To Be A Chanter_. Trevelyan’s eyes widened as she recognized the smell as well. It explained why he had seemed out of sorts in the library. He must have missed his dose while fooling around with her. 

“Evelyn,” her mother called and she started, pulling her eyes from Cullen in what she thought was probably a pretty obvious display. “Come meet your niece.” 

 

Trevelyan felt horrible thinking it but she was grateful when her niece laid down to take a nap and her mother and Helaine excused themselves. She loved them, was so pleased to have gotten to see them, but a part of it was exhausting. She felt a little like she as on display. She had to be on her best behavior to show them that having magic didn’t make someone dangerous. She wasn’t really sure why she was bothering. It wasn’t as if she could be invited to come home. She supposed she was just all mixed up and it was easiest to take her frustrations out on the family she never saw. Cullen had been distant, only he hadn’t been because they’d all be in the same room for most of the day with her family. She didn’t expect him to take her there on the floor of her niece’s room. She didn’t even expect him to touch her in the same basic, friendly manner that Pate felt comfortable doing. She didn’t really know what she expected. 

She could feel his eyes on her as she and Pate chopped elfroot to make potions for when they left. She could see him when she angled herself in the right way, his eyes soft and wondering as they sat on her shoulders or hips or hands. He had offered to help them originally but his hands were too big for the delicate task. Now he simply alternated between reading, praying, and watching. Trevelyan wondered if he was thinking about her and the library and whatever, if anything, would be their next step together. 

“You know, I kind of assumed you’d be less foggy in the head after you got some action,” Pate commented low. “Was it that bad?” He paused what he was doing and blinked, giving her a mildly alarmed look. “Was it that good?”

“It was good,” she insisted. 

“Then what’s wrong? I mean, if you want some more just go on over there and give him a tug. There’s plenty of empty rooms in this place. I won’t tattle.” She shook her head and began separating the ingredients by step. She risked a glance in Cullen’s direction but he was looking down one of the books rather unseeingly.

“It’s not like that. It’s, I don’t know, it’s different than how it was with you.”

“I get it, I get it. I don’t have any muscles. You’re gonna give me a complex over here.” She shook her head again and sighed, wiping her hands on a rag. Pate bounced his shoulder against hers and she looked over at him. “You like him a lot?” He asked in what was almost an uncharacteristic display of genuine, unexaggerated concern. 

“I mean,” she started, knowing she shouldn’t look over at him again so soon but desperately wanting to, “I think so? I have to, right? If it was just about getting off I could do that with you. But, I mean, I… like him a lot.” The realization, or at least the vocalization of it, was liberating. She felt like a shroud had been lifted from her mind. It was a relief to say aloud if not a little terrifying. “I like him a lot.” She didn’t try to fight the smile off her face. Pate grinned back at her and pinched her cheek with fingers sticky from potion making. 

“You should probably let him in on that little secret.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought of all the wonders and beauties of the various chantries he had seen, all the golden paintings that depicted the Chant of Light, all the little blue vials that had strung together his life since he joined the Order. All of it paled in comparison to her, here and now, with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for how long this chapter took.

He tried to pray and couldn’t. He tried to read but couldn’t manage that either. His thoughts kept wandering to Trevelyan, the sound of her and the feel of her. He held the memory of what had transpired close, half scared that it was something from one of his sick dreams. But it had never been Trevelyan, he argued with himself as he stared unseeing down at the pages of a book. Amell was the mage that the demons had paraded before him. The demons didn’t know about Trevelyan because he didn’t know about her yet. It couldn’t be a twisted flashback to Kinloch Hold. Still the terror at that idea shifted in his mind, tightened in his chest. 

The suspicion had dulled slightly. The lyrium was good at combating those feelings of unreality. The song of it in his blood out rang the things the demons had whispered to him. Cullen tried not to sigh as he shifted position and pulled his tired eyes off the book in his hands. He looked up at Trevelyan where she sat nearly cheek to cheek with Pate. They whispered together as he wrote out instructions and placed them beside the freshly made potions. Cullen hated the way their shoulders brushed, the way Trevelyan’s foot tapped idly against Pate’s in a soft and unthinking manner, the way the other mage would lift a hand and place it between her shoulder blades or across her arm or string his fingers thoughtlessly through the bottom of her braid. He never even looked up from what he was doing! The closeness was natural between them, bred from he didn’t know how many years of friendship and camaraderie and… whatever else they had had together. 

Cullen ground his teeth and forced his eyes back to the book in his hands. It was unworthy of him to sit here stewing over something that meant nothing. Trevelyan herself had assured him that she and Pate were merely friends, and even if he had not wholly believed it before after what had occurred in the library… He glanced back up in time to watch Trevelyan hide a smile behind her hand. She looked over and caught him watching. She let her hand fall away from her face and simply looked at him with eyes large and full of something he couldn’t quite place. “Lady Trevelyan,” he said, cursing this sudden increase in formality, “you should get some rest. We’ll be leaving early tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, Evelyn, better go to your room,” Pate sing-songed. He got a quick elbow to his side for his effort. Cullen hated to admit the warm feeling self-satisfaction that grew from watching it. 

“Maker help you if you call me that again.” Trevelyan stood. Cullen stood as well. It seemed the thing to do for the sake of manners. Pate leaned back against the table they had been working out, kicking out his legs in front of him and stretching slightly. 

“I’m just saying you think you’d be eager to sleep in that big bed of yours rather than spend your time cramped in here with us. We’ve been relegated to cots, you know,” Pate gestured to both cots. Trevelyan crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes as she walked away.

“You were both offered guest rooms and refused.” She paused by the doorway and looked over at Cullen again. He cleared his throat, feeling that there was something unspoken being said to him that he couldn’t understand. 

“I couldn’t accept a guest room,” he muttered as he mentally cursed the fact that looking into her eyes seemed to rob him of any semblance of intelligence he had. Trevelyan lowered her eyes for a moment and he wondered if she could hear the dry swallow he attempted. When she looked back up she was biting the edge of her bottom lip, holding it between her teeth before running her tongue over the spot. It sent a stab of heat through him. His stomach spiraled.

“Good night, Knight-Captain,” she said in that way it seemed she had just for him. 

“You should’ve walked her to her room,” Pate chided once Trevelyan had left. Cullen looked over at him harshly. He was laid out across his cot, his head pillowed on his arms. “I’m not the only mage here, you know. She needs a Templar’s eye on her as well.” He turned over onto his side so that his back faced Cullen. He was grateful because he thought he heard the other man mutter something that sounded suspiciously to Cullen like: “She needs more than your eyes on her.”

“I am more concerned about you running off than her,” he said defensively. Pate waved a hand sloppily over his shoulder. The dismissiveness of the gesture rankled Cullen’s   
pride. He did not want mages to fear him but the sheer lack of respect that this man was able to cultivate was astonishing. 

“Well, no need to worry. I’m about to pass out into a totally dreamless sleep. No need to worry or watch me.” Cullen glanced at the door, indecisive as duty and desire warred within him. Though Pate had a point, didn’t he? Cullen should be watching Trevelyan as well. Really he should have insisted that she stay with them rather than on her own, but he had not been able to rob her of that small pleasure. He frowned. “Down the hall, up the small stairs, second door on the left,” Pate said matter-of-factly. Cullen frowned and looked at the other man’s back. After a moment of silence the mage took to snoring in a fake and over exaggerated manner. Cullen took the hint. He supposed he should be grateful, but he wasn’t. Just on edge and uncertain. 

“Right,” he mumbled, taking himself to door. 

“Left,” Pate corrected. Cullen ignored it.

 

It was not a long walk to Trevelyan’s room but it felt like it took forever to him. Every noise, every shadow, every moment weighed heavy on him. Anxiety splintered through his veins. This was a mistake, his mind told him. It was inappropriate. It was against the rules. He was the Knight-Captain! What was he doing? Despite himself he knocked on her bedroom door and held his breath until he heard her welcoming voice. 

The room was lit dimly by low burning brassieres. He tried not to look around too much. It felt like a violation of her privacy, though in truth as a mage she deserved no such thing. “Um,” he started but found his voice high and dry and nervous. Quietly, he shut the door and took tentative steps closer to where Trevelyan was sitting up in her bed. 

“I was hoping you’d come,” she said and the sound of her happiness drew a smile on his face. She gestured him closer and he obeyed. Once he was at the foot of her bed he could see that she was only wearing a dressing gown tied loosely. It fell open slightly, exposing her collar bone and riding into a low V along her breasts. He could see the smooth curves and the space between them. He swallowed but could not tear his eyes away. “Sit down! Be comfortable!” She insisted with a giggle. “When I pictured you coming I didn’t think you’d wear your armor,” she joked as he placed himself as lightly as possible on the soft sheets and mattress. He felt out of place and uncomfortable but her warm presence kept him from retreating in humiliation. “Well, when I picture you coming you’re generally not wearing anything at all,” she hummed, leaning over so that her hands were on the bed between them and her dressing gown fell open even further. Cullen could see her breasts fully now and the sight, so wonderful and right, was overwhelming. He looked away.

“Trevelyan,” he started, an apology on his tongue. 

“I’m sorry,” she supplied for him. Cullen turned back to her in shock. “I come on a little bit strong, don’t I?” Trevelyan toyed with the tie of her robe. He could see her thighs too, now that he was looking. Maker, preserve him. He was a lost man. 

“It’s fine. I mean, I’m not very good at this sort of thing myself… One of us should be.” She brought a hand to his cheek, fingers rubbing through his stubble as her thumb placed itself over the scar on his lip. She looked at him with a depth of emotion he did not rightly know how to reciprocate or understand. Instead, he simply leaned his face into her touch and closed his eyes. He savored the simple pleasure in such innocent affection.

“Why didn’t you get this healed properly?” She whispered. He kept his eyes closed but he could feel her edging closer. The bed dipped lower as she positioned herself at his side. 

“I don’t trust—“ He started, but knew that was the wrong thing to say. He opened his eyes, stuttering to figure out how to respond without burying himself any further than he might have. “I don’t… know any of the healers well enough to…” He sighed and shook his head. She pulled her hand away. “It would’ve been a very vulnerable position…” 

“Did you think Pate would disfigure you?” Her tone was light but Cullen still felt weighed down by everything. He shook his head again. Slowly he moved his hands to hold her by her waist.

“Scars don’t bother me,” he said simply. It wasn’t a lie and far easier to speak than the whole truth. How scared he had been while undergoing the healing. How he had sweated and shook from memories of the other things that magic might do to a man. He did not wish to conjure those thoughts now with her in his arms. He could feel the magic under her skin, calling to the lyrium that ran fresh through his own veins. He didn’t need any more reminders of what she was. 

“They don’t bother me either,” she said and kissed him. “Take off your armor.” She ran her hands along the seams of the metal, tugging gently because she had no real notion of how to remove the pieces. “Let me touch you.” Cullen felt panicked despite the fact that he had come here knowing, hoping, wanting this to happen. His mind went to Ferelden, to Uldred’s rebellion, to the mages who had imprisoned him and the demons who had tormented him. He could feel the sickly sweet graze of their fingers over his mind and body, see the fantasies paraded before him as they were ripped from the privacy of his mind and twisted. No, he could not let Trevelyan touch him. He could not lose himself in the sexual pleasure of her body without fear that it was just another demon’s trick. 

“I’d rather,” Trevelyan leaned back to give him the space his wavering tone so desperately conveyed, “if I could… just touch you.” Cullen toyed with the strap to one of his gauntlets. Trevelyan was silent. He worried what she might be thinking. Did this request make it obvious that he was hardly a man at all? That he was something cobbled together from broken trust, bent faith, nightmares, and lyrium? He imagined she could see the things the demons had done to him, the things they’d made him do. She could see the perversion the blood mages had wrung out of him. This was a mistake. She wouldn’t want him now, now that he had exposed himself as damaged, useless, deviant. 

“Really? You don’t want me to…” He looked at her face as she trailed off, caught her biting her lip and glancing down at his crotch. His ears burned at the insinuation. As if she could see through his armor he placed one of his hands over himself there.

“No. No, I just want,” he sighed, “I want to do something that might make you feel good.” She was holding his face in her hands and kissing him fiercely before he had truly ended his sentence. He managed to pull loose his gauntlets while Trevelyan thrust her tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss and making him moan low in his chest. He ran his now free hands up her sides and back down again. He held her around the waist with one while the other pressed along her back up to her shoulder. She giggled into his mouth and he pulled back confused.

“You’re squishing me.”

“Maker’s breath, I’m sorry.” She put her lips to his lightly before he could fumble out anymore apologies. He loosened his hold on her until she was able to slip from his lap back onto the mattress proper. “What would you have me do?” His heart thudded against his ribs. He tried to ignore the images that flashed in his mind. Things he wanted. Things he wanted her to want. 

“What do you want to do to me?” She asked. Cullen closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the sickness of his nightmares wash over him briefly. Without a verbal response Cullen lifted himself off the bed and lowered himself to the floor. He knelt before her and placed his hands lightly on her thighs. When he glanced up at her Trevelyan was staring at him wide eyed and eager. She nodded her consent. It soothed him. 

Carefully he undid the sloppy knot that had so poorly held together her sleeping robe. Smoothly, Trevelyan shrugged out of it and let the silken fabric pool around her. Cullen stared up at her naked body, silhouetted by the low burning candles and glowing with the radiance of her youthful beauty, and was awestruck. “You know,” she whispered, “you’re the first person to see me naked like this.”

“But I thought—“ He started, confused. She shook her head.

“There’s never time to be naked with someone in the Circle.” 

“Oh.” He placed a kiss to each of her knees. “It’s an honor. You are… the most lovely thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” Trevelyan blushed. It darkened her cheeks and breasts. He thought of all the wonders and beauties of the various chantries he had seen, all the golden paintings that depicted the Chant of Light, all the little blue vials that had strung together his life since he joined the Order. All of it paled in comparison to her, here and now, with him. 

On his knees in front of her, Cullen lowered his head and worshiped her. 

 

The goodbyes were even harder to watch than the greetings, so Cullen averted his eyes and made busy checking and double checking their saddles and supplies. He was tired. Exhausted really. He had gotten little to no sleep the previous night. Cullen was long used to such things, however, and the reasoning behind his current fatigue put him in a much better mood than usual. Pate leaned against one of the horses and then quickly withdrew when it made a noise that unnerved him. Cullen almost smiled. Pate must also have been trying to be as out of the way for Trevelyan’s sake as Cullen was. 

“You’re a gifted healer,” Cullen said in an attempt at eating the empty air between them. Conversation would drown out the sound of Lady Trevelyan weeping. 

“You say that like you’re surprised,” Pate responded with his eyebrows raised and his smirk ready. Cullen shook his head, caught between the urge to roll his eyes and laugh. 

“Can you blame me? You spend your days acting like an utter fool.” It was meant as a jest but Cullen couldn’t quite tell if it was successful. Halfway through he found himself second guessing the choice of response. It was wrong to be so friendly with this mage, though obviously this was nothing in comparison to the lines he had crossed with Trevelyan. Pate shrugged with the good nature that Cullen had only rarely seen him without. 

“Smiling and being friendly doesn’t make someone an utter fool.” Cullen had no sort of response to that. It was a relief that Trevelyan came over in that moment. 

Her eyes were red-rimmed and her mouth had worked itself into a tight frown. She looked at neither of them as she stood there, putting her bag across the back of the horse. Cullen wanted to hold to her chest, whisper whatever he could into her ear to comfort her, wipe the tears from her eyes with a careful and caring hand. He couldn’t do those things here in the open with all her family watching, her brother’s eyes no doubt still hyper aware of any sort of indiscretion. Before Cullen could even begin to contemplate throwing caution to the wind and embracing her Pate had done it. He watched the other mage rub Trevelyan’s back. He could hear the faint susurration of Pate’s private words. He could see Trevelyan’s trembling heighten and then lessen as she sniffled into her friend’s shoulder. It tore him up inside to watch, but he did not turn away. 

They left with Cullen leading slightly and Trevelyan and Pate following on their shared horse. There was little conversation. Cullen wondered what it must feel like to be going back for them. He looked over at Trevelyan’s silent, sullen face while Pate’s chin rested on her shoulder. “Can we stop for a moment?” The healer asked after a brief amount of time. Cullen frowned.

“We only just started. We have a schedule to keep.”

“I want to switch horses,” the mage explained. Trevelyan angled her head so she could see her friend slightly. She looked confused and the confusion seemed to be outshining her sadness for the moment. Cullen wondered if it was all a ploy to get Trevelyan’s spirits up. Pate acting like the sheltered mage who was ill suited for any sort of outdoor activity and Cullen being the long-suffering Templar forced to accommodate him. “I want to try riding on my own,” he elaborated. 

“Riding… What?” Cullen asked, pulling his horse to a stop. Their horse stopped as well. 

“I want to try riding on my own,” he repeated as if they were slow. “I’ll likely never get a chance again and it’s woefully bad for my sensitive male ego to be stuck behind Trevelyan like a damsel in distress this whole time.” He started trying to get himself off the horse. “I mean, you’ll have to sit behind her like a damsel in distress the whole time, but you’ve got armor and muscles and I imagine your masculinity doesn't come under as much fire as mine does,” Pate rambled on, finally managing to slide off the side of the horse. He stumbled slightly on the ground but managed to keep his balance. It was definitely an improvement on the first time Cullen had watched him dismount which had been followed by Cullen having to bodily remove him like a child the second time. 

“I don’t mind if Knight-Captain Cullen doesn’t mind,” Trevelyan offered. There was a small look of hope on her face. Cullen realized he had misinterpreted Pate’s game. He looked over at the other man. The look on Pate’s face said: you should really be thanking me, jerk and I’m so scared of this horse. All things combined left Cullen smiling. 

“I suppose there’s no harm in it,” he offered though he was certain his eagerness was shining through. He supposed there was no harm in Trevelyan seeing he was happy to sit behind her on their ride and only very little in letting Pate see it. The rode like that for the rest of the day, and Cullen couldn’t remember a time smiled more.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevelyan, Cullen, and Percy exchange letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a filler chapter because I wanted to update something.

Dear Percy,

I hope this letter finds you well. How was your relocation to Ferelden? Do you like the Circle there better than Starkhaven? Than Ostwick? Are your new Templar brothers and sisters being nice to you? I expect at least a page in response to each of these questions.

I've just returned from a visit with Mother and Father. Though, I suppose it was less a visit and more a business matter. Whatever the case may be, under Knight-Captain Cullen's guidance I was part of a small mage team sent to help cure young Gwyn of a rather horrible fever. I'll admit to having very little claim to the glory, though I did chop elfroot and mix potions quite adeptly. 

It was very strange being home. It hardly felt like home at all if I'm being honest. Without the screaming chaos of young children it's a rather quiet, austere place. Being there made me miss you. 

Do you still keep in touch with Sebastian Vael? Mother told me what happened to his family. How terrible! She said things in Starkhaven have been quite a mess. Maybe it's for the best that the Circle burnt down. I hope you stay in Ferelden once it's all repaired. With all that political nonsense going on I don't think that I could sleep for all the worrying I would do. 

Write when you can.  
Your loving sister.

~

Dear Loving Sister,

Have we met before? This is an awfully familiar letter to send to someone you hardly know. I mean, I do have a sister and I've heard she can be rather loving, but honestly I've always known her to be rather prone to smacking me upside the head. Not very loving, wouldn't you say?

To answer your questions: Good. Equal. Less. Of course.

Cullen was promoted? I'll have to write him myself and congratulate him. Too bad I was already gone. We could have celebrated! That man looks like he could use a good celebration. Wine and women are the cure for whatever ails a person, you know.

I heard Gwyn was sick. Mother sent me a lengthy report on it. Poor girl. Glad she's feeling better. I suppose if she was sick that means you didn't get to see her in top form. She's a bit of a little devil. Sort of a mix between the two of us. Serves Lancel right for always being such a spoil sport. 

I can't comment on the quietness of austerity of the home. I haven't lived there for a good chunk of time either, though I don't ever remember it being quiet. My last memory of the old homestead is Lancel vowing to disown me as soon as father died or something along those lines. I stopped listening to Lancel's rantings about me a long time ago. For the best. Otherwise I might get offended and who knows what that would be like!

That's old news, Loving Sister. Where have you been? Locked in a tower? I don't keep in touch with Sebastian. We fell out a bit once he joined the Chantry and got serious about it. We've little in common without the debauchery. I do hear about him from time to time, though how what Sebastian's up to is of any interest to I can't fathom. He's living in Kirkwall which I can only assume is some sort of penance for all the crazy nights.

Your Handsome, Wonderful, Charming, Hilarious, Caring, etc etc Brother.

PS  
It's funny that you wrote me because they've got me supervising the mail. Do the Tranquil read the incoming mail of the mages at your Circle? I hope so. Anything suspicious they take to me so that I can look into or punish as the case fits. All for safety, you know. 

~

Knight-Captain Cullen,

Firstly, congratulations on promotion. I can't think of a man better suited to the crippling tensions and anxieties of power and command than you. That is to say, I'm glad it's not me.

Secondly, I hear you made a visit to my family. I hope everything went well. After all, traveling with two mages could be quite dangerous. Or perhaps that's just my own opinion. Perhaps you didn't find the mages at all threatening. Perhaps you are a confident, virile man who is able to instill loyalty and obedience to any, even mages.

Evelyn was one of the mages, wasn't she? Don't worry, I'm not spying on you. I've had a letter from my mother. She raved about the visit, thought sadly it was mostly news of Evelyn (how beautiful she is, how well mannered, how popular she would be if allowed to attend court...). I'm thirsty for news of you, my man! Did you like my home? My parents? Was Lancel as much a incorrigible turd to you as he is to everyone else?

What bedroom did you sleep in? There are several and my old one would have been empty I imagine. Or perhaps you all slept in Evelyn's old room? To better watch out that the stress of being home didn't entice her to any questionable dreams and activities.

Also, what was the name of the town your sisters live in? I believe I promised you I'd marry them both and I hate to break my promises.

Ser Percy

~

Ser Percy,

I appreciate your letter and congratulations. 

Traveling went well. There were no incidents aside from some terror involving a horse. 

I am glad that Lady Trevelyan was able to glean some joy from our brief visit, considering the dour circumstances that brought us. 

Your home was lovely. A bit too much like something out of a storybook for my taste, but I grew up on a farm and then inside a Tower. I am rather ill-equipped to judge architecture.

Your parents were very fine. Your father seems to be proud of your accomplishments. Your mother a pleasant, welcoming sort of woman. 

Your brother saw no cause for pomp and circumstance around me and acted, so far as I can tell, as much like himself as ever.

I'm afraid the last few sentences of your letter are rather illegible. Perhaps they became smudged in some way on their way to me. As it is, the last thing I can decipher is that you wish to know the location of my family. Seeing as I have not seen them in several years it might seem odd if I were to begin simply sending suitors.

Keep well,  
Knight-Captain Cullen


End file.
